


Family Ties

by monohighbrid



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Badly, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Happy Ending, I don't know much about the military, I'm Sorry, John Winchester Is Not An Asshole, M/M, Military Freeform, Minor Character Death, Romance, everything is googled, it's super unrealistic, mentioning of war injuries, the OFC is Dean's twin, they are already dead but it will be mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 05:56:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 40,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15454827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monohighbrid/pseuds/monohighbrid
Summary: After 15 years in the military Emma Winchester is finally ready to go back home and settle down. Everything could be good, wouldn't it be for the annoying blue-eyed friend of Dean's who keeps crossing her the wrong way.





	1. June 15th

Emma prepared herself to get hit by Georgia’s humid heat when she headed for the small balcony of her army-provided box apartment, by the looks of it furnished by a depressed accountant. Today was Bobby’s birthday, so she decided to give him a quick call and catch up on him a little and because he would probably tell her parents she would talk to him anyway, she would call them afterward. They were kind of sensitive after what happened two years ago and she wasn’t calling them very often, to be fair. The phone ringed three times until the gruff voice blared at her.

“Is about damn time kid, it’s nearly 5 here and your folks expecting me in an ‘our. So what kept you so busy? Pushing around som’ rookies?”

“And hello to you, too, grumpy. Just because you have the luxury of receiving phone calls all day, cause you are basically doing nothin’ doesn’t mean I have the luxury to give calls whenever I want. And you can give me some credit here, I ain’t pushing around nobody, I am downright torturing them. It’s awesome not being the one crawling through the mud for a change. Happy birthday, by the way, old man. So what’s the plan, good ol’ fashioned family barbecue? The whole gang riling up on you? You will love it”, she chuckled taking a sip of her beer which turned warm already.

“It’s called retirement for a reason kid, and I’m not doing nothing. I am helping your old man and your brother in the shop. I can still do things, you know”, he sounded brusque but amused. “And they won’t give me a break, but I’ll be damned to miss Dean’s burger.” She sighed.

“Yeah, I kind of miss them. Helping in the shop, huh? So you do a lot of crawling under the hoods these days? Sure ain’t got the body to writhe on one.”

“You wanna keep insulting me on my birthday? They don’t teach you manners in Fort Benning?”

“Oh, they do. But you know my potty mouth, partially this is your fault. And I am an honor scout compared to the others, consider yourself lucky. So what’s new in Lawrence?” She heard the sounds of bottles clatter and Bobby taking a long sip.

“Someone came by to check out the Roadhouse. I’ll maybe sell it. Doesn’t feel right, though. But it’s slowly rotting away. Better see it in the hands of a city douchebag selling tofu burger and kale salads than seeing it turning into a ruin. Or better, turning it into a ruin som’ more.”

 

Emma sighed. She basically grew up in the Roadhouse. When her father was still a trucker, away on the road for weeks, he barely made enough money to provide for his family with three little kids growing like weed. That’s why Ellen, Bobbies wife, gave her Mom a job and that’s why Dean and she ended up every other day after school in a corner booth, Sammy between them, and pretending to do their homework, but throwing fries at each other instead. They were pretty much extended family to Ellen and Bobby, who hadn’t kids on their own. Family don’t end in blood, was what Bobby liked to say. When Mary and John had a hard time during their marriage it was Ellen who took them in. When Dean finally realized he was probably gay it was Bobby who pep-talked him to come out to his parents. When Emma had some serious aggression issues in high school and nearly beat a boy to pulp it was Ellen who wasn’t sensible about it and tore her a new one (and subscribed her into a boxing gym). When John’s drinking became worse it was Ellen and Bobby who convinced him to sober up and finally got this body shop going he always talked about. When Sam decided to drop out of high school, too, like Dean did, to help his father in the garage it was Bobby who swayed him to finish, and hey! Sammy got a full ride to Stanford, becoming the top shot lawyer he always wanted to be. And when Emma ran off with 18 to join the army of all places and her Dad freaked out and downright disowned her, it was Bobby and Ellen, who forced the both of them to sit down on her first leave and talk it out in this very corner booth. So yeah, she had some pretty good memories going with the Roadhouse, but after Ellen passed, well Bobby hadn’t it in him to keep it open. And it would be a shame if some stranger would suddenly own the place she saw as her second home. She could buy it, fix it up, and get it running again. She basically had 14 years of salary lying around because the Army provided everything she had needed. She hadn’t many expenses at all. So money shouldn’t be a problem.

“What would you to with an old shed, kid? Is not like you could put it to any use, it would still rottin’”, had she said the buying part out loud? Well, the hell, then just roll with it.

“Well, my enlistment ends next November. They mope around me, trying to convince me to prolong again, promising early promotion, but I won’t do it. I don’t owe them and the others will understand. I already gave him nearly half of my life, my entire adult life that’s it, so screw ‘em. Would be cool to have something to do, when I come home I guess. I mean Dean would probably offer me a job, but I rather would start something on my own. What’ya say?” There was stunned silence on the other line. To be fair, it was the first time ever she mentioned to anybody that she would actually leave the army, take her duffle bag, her dog tags, and her service medals and never look back. She thought about it for a while, her family pleading the case for two years now kind of pushed her a little, but they were right and she meant what she said.

“You will seriously come home?”

“Uhm, yeah. I mean, you guys pretty much coerced me already and so, if you still want me, I am willing to deliver”, there was a rustling noise and then the line went dead. Emma rolled her eyes.

“Nice talk, old man”, she mumbled and went inside, downing the rest of her lukewarm beer. Better get the laptop running. She was unsure if Bobby would pick up the phone to gossip the information to her parents or if he would jump in his beat-up truck so he could be part of the upcoming Skype call.

~

She changed from her cargo pants and a shirt that actually belonged to a long-gone boyfriend into some nicer sweatpants (without ketchup stains) and a (clean) army tank top. She also took of her dog tags and opened her ponytail. She threw a light jacket over her shoulders. The army tank top was pretty, well, army, but she didn’t look so much like a soldier anymore, something that would upset her mother and she didn’t need that now. She waited for the little button on the screen saying “Casa Winchester” turning from yellow to green. The Skype ring tone blubbered immediately and Dean’s face appeared on the screen. He obviously wasn’t aware of her, clicking with a desperate frown.

“I don’t have a picture. What should I click? Emma? You there?”

“I can hear and see you”, she said. No reaction. So he managed not only to turn off her camera window but to mute the sound, too. Sometimes she wondered how Dean could actually manage Kansas Tyres with so much success when he wasn’t able to open Skype or use What’s App, for the matter.

“What should I do? Mom? I don’t have a picture. Babe? Little help?” he clicked some more and ended the call, most likely by accident. The better part of a minute nothing happened then it rang again. This time the face of an older guy with a perfectly groomed beard and hair appeared on the screen, smiling fondly with a little smirk in his eyes.

“There you are. Look, Dean, now it’s running. The problem sat in front of the laptop, as usual”, Dean mumbled something and crammed himself into the other man’s space grinning into the camera.

“Hey Em. Wait a second”, he turned away and shouted for their parents. They appeared in the background. Her mother looked anxious, her father frowned. She used the time to address the elephant in the room.

“Cain, dude, what’s going on with the hair and the beard? You look like a pirate”, the older guy chuckled.

“Dean, your husband needs a haircut. I am used to short hair, this is startling me. Sammy is one thing, but this? I am not sure I can handle that when I am back”, _smooth Winchester_.

“So you’re actually coming home?” Dean asked a little bit too loud and with a little pitch in his voice. He was excited. 

“Well, yeah. That was my plan. Didn’t even really realize it was my plan ‘til I told Bobby 10 minutes ago. So, my enlistment ends in November, I could be home a couple of weeks before Christmas. Wow, would be the first since what, five years?”

“Seven”, her father said coolly. They still didn’t have the best of relationships, but that kind of was John Winchester for you, being icy to his runaway kids. Kind of ironic considering he was the one being more away than home the first 10 years of Deans and her life. Sam could sing a song about that, too. But she could handle it, and John never was much of a television Dad anyway. When he stopped drinking and opened the garage he got better. After a serious heart attack 5 years ago (one of the rare occasions Emma actually was able to get a leave) followed by a surgery and months of physio Dean took over the garage and boy did he turned out to be an uncut diamond. He started to restore vintage cars and showed up on various auto shows, and piqued the interest of some serious investors. He expanded Kansas Tyres, hired 13 employees and made a nice living. And John was proud of him and actually showed him that. Dean needed that more than anything, his father’s approval, and Emma was more than happy being on John’s frosty side as long her brother got that from John. John accepting Cain, weird, eccentric, beekeeping author he was, was a big plus. So she totally could ignore Johns nagging and focused on her mother instead.

“What you say, Mom? I could stay at a Motel or something, but if you let me I could stay in my old room until I find something else. I know for a fact that Dean did not turn it into a second nursery for Emmi, because you didn’t allow it”, and there the tears started. Emma expected that but still bit her lip for mentioning Emma, being her namesake for a reason. And not a happy one of that. Not the most clever thing to do. And of course, her mother needed to ask the next thing.

“It’s still 5 months. Do you have to go on another … mission until then?” Emma sighed.

“It’s called operation, not mission, Mom. And well, at the moment we are pretty occupied in schooling new recruits”, she started to fidget. Nearly everything she did was classified, but this at least was something she could talk about. Successful recruits of the Army Rangers were announced in a pretty big ceremony with press attendance and the past nine years she usually stood behind her General, trying to look proud instead of bored. Her mother had every picture of her in parade uniform in an album. Being the first female Army Ranger obviously made her a nice photo motif, so there were a lot of them. It was kind of embarrassing and a timeline of her getting promoted. Her brother was calling her Cap, a little teasing for her motorcycle obsession (if it hasn’t 4 wheels I am not impressed) and the leather jacket, but she actually was promoted Sergeant First Class two years ago.

“This will take us the next 2 months, so I am pretty much grounded here in Fort Benning and can sauté in my own stew over the summer. But if they decide to send me somewhere I have to go, you know that. And in the past years they let me get away with some serious fuck-ups, so an ungraceful leave isn’t an option, either, even if I try that.” Her mother sobbed some more and John started to rub her back in small circles to give her comfort. John was not a perfect father, but a pretty good husband. Emma had to give him that.

“Look, I know, okay? There are reasons I don’t tell you shit about my work apart from the classified, for your eyes only stuff. Because you guys worry too much. I know, you thought I died two years ago, and I don’t even can start to imagine what you went through, but I didn’t. Die I mean. I was fine the past 14 years, I will manage the next 5 months because I always do. And I will come home around Christmas for good, okay? I will buy the Roadhouse, I am pretty much decided that and I am planning on staying. Maybe find a nice man, settle down. Who knows. Dean somehow achieved that, even the Moose has a girlfriend. And I am ten times better looking and generally more awesome”, that at least got her a chuckle from her mother.

“So, you know what? I will end this here. Its Bobby’s birthday, no one gets upset on Bobby’s birthday. Mom, Dad and Dean you go and harass Bobby and have a burger and some beer and make jokes and have fun. You do that and set up Bobby with Jody Mills already, would you? And you Cain, will get this daughter of yours and my little brother and be the proud father telling me about every detail of her development of the past 6 months. I mean that, chop chop”, they said their goodbyes and Emma spend the next 20 minutes listening to Cain (and Dean) boasting about Emmi being the smarted and brightest kid ever (although Emma did not really get how drawing flowers on the walls of Mary and Johns living room qualified as a smart thing). She closed the laptop feeling happier and more content than in months. This was going to be good. Her men might be not so happy about it, but they would come along. Balt would probably give her shit, but wouldn’t mean it though. Zack and Benny would be cool. Ava and Adam were just kids, both her recruits one year ago (Okay, they both been experienced soldiers for a while. Adam being a Marine and Ava being an Air Force Lieutenant, and hell that girl could fly an Apache helicopter, but they barely qualified as proper Rangers, yet), staring at her like she hung the moon and that was pretty much the look they give Zack and Benny as well. So they would just peacefully submit to everyone taking her place. And she wouldn’t be out of the world. Balt would resign soon as well, she could tell by the weary look in his eyes. Benny’s wife was expecting, so sooner or later he would quit, too. She wasn’t really interested in keeping in touch with Zack, they were civil enough and he never questioned one of her orders, but they didn’t really get along. And Ava and Adam were still recruits in her eyes. So, yeah, her men would handle her leave. No real worries on this side. She smiled and opened another beer, silently saluting to Bobby.


	2. October 9th

Chief Castiel Novak was unsure if he was happy and excited about Deans long absent twin sister coming home or upset and worried. Dean was happy and excited and Cas felt bad about not really sharing his anticipation. Actually he felt like an ass, he didn’t even know her. All he knew where stories about her and of course he was there when the Winchesters buried an empty casket, but he read her record. And yeah, she had a record. This girl was pretty much a notorious petty criminal back in her day and how she was allowed to rise in the rank of the US Armed Forces was kind of a puzzle to Cas. One of the worst charges was an assault against another student. She beat the living daylight out of him. Two broken ribs, a ruptured spleen, a broken wrist and arm, a serious concussion and a smashed yaw later she faced Juvie and got away by luck and an understanding judge. She was just defending her little gay brother being harassed after all. But actually that was not the worst. She pulled Dean down with her. Cas was sure of that. He was convinced that Dean would have fared better in school and in his youth without her interference. He maybe was biased, with his sibling being very much assholes, but every time the former Chief took Emma Elizabeth Winchester to the precinct and wrote a report Deans name popped up somewhere. He never did get into trouble on his own and he never got arrested again after she left. On the other hand, this was over 15 years ago. People change and she was military after all. He was military for God’s sake. You didn’t make it to Sergeant First Class with the Army Rangers by behaving like an aggressive teenager. She probably was disciplined and level-headed, and smart. Army Rangers were part of the Special Forces, they didn’t just follow orders blindly. So maybe he was overdramatizing. What could happen? That they would go on a bender and start a bar fight? Maybe, but this wouldn’t be so bad, it happened to the best. He would knew, he’d been there.

Cas sighed and let his eyes wander to his daughter Anna playing peacefully in the little daycare area they set up in the precinct. Missouri had dropped Emma there an hour ago and would pick up both girls around 3. Four years and 3 months ago his wife died giving birth to that beautiful little girl over there and Castiel wasn’t prepared. Not. At. All. Heading straight into depression he let himself got convinced to move with his older brother Gabriel who decided to go on a very extended vacation only 3 weeks later, leaving Cas and a newborn all by themselves in a new town and with a new job. To say it didn’t went well was an major understatement, and one night Cas was sitting on his porch crying his eyes out in mourning and exhaustion and self-pity until a guy with green eyes and a warm smile asked him if he was alright. Cas did not remember much about that night except being manhandled inside to his crying daughter and the general chaos created by an overwhelmed single father and a baby, force-fed some sandwiches, drinking the most burning glass of Scotch in his life and being tucked into bed like a child. The next morning he woke to a house full of strangers, miraculously cleaned, and his daughter happily cooing in the arms of blond woman. That’s how Castiel Novak became another member of the Winchester family. Dean was pretty much is best friend, probably the best friend he ever had and Mary and well, Bobby, were more is parents then his actual parents were. He still regretted that he didn’t take some pictures of Gabe’s plastered face when the bundled Winchester clan gave him shit about leaving Cas and Anna alone in Cas’ state. It took some more months until he finally came around. There were days when he barely made it out of bed, days when he snapped at everything, days when he just shut himself away, days when he wasn’t able to even look at his daughter, who might have his eyes but her mother’s face (these were the worst, leading straight into guilt-tripping). And the Winchesters took every bullet. It was actually pretty awesome.

So yeah, Cas was worried that Emma coming back from basically 14 years of war would mean trouble. She could be still a mischief, she could have PTSD (not that he would blame her, but this could be pretty heavy on the shoulders of the family members), she could run off again leaving Mary and Dean in pieces. Maybe nothing of that would happen, but Cas braced himself to be there if the shit hit that fan, he owed the Winchester that much.


	3. December 12th

She made it through security okay, still a little bit wobbly because frankly, she hated flying. She wasn’t so much panicking like Dean, but she agreed with him, it was unnatural and she would have rather driven. But it would have been taken too much time and she was crawling on her tooth flesh already. The last two weeks were pure stress, and this statement coming from a woman who starred her own hostage videos by terrorists once meant something. Turned out the military was pissed of her leaving and left a whole avalanche of problems in her way. At least she was able to keep the composure while solving one after the other making it just in time to catch a flight the pilot was apologizing for in advance, being forced to stay in the clouds most of the time, because reasons. So a bumpy ride it was. Kansas City was only 50 minutes away from Lawrence and she rented a car. It was December, all right? There was no snow (not yet), but it was cold and she was getting older. So no motorcycle this time. The guy at the counter was grinning at her widely and she eyed him with wary suspicion. They were in the center of the Bible Belt, beaming like a Canadian was out of character. She didn’t appreciate any information on the forms she signed but maybe she should have because 15 minutes later (she might get lost in the parking area) she stood in front of a very fire red very masculine muscle car. It was a 1970 Dodge Challenger RT screaming Kansas Tyres all over and sure as hell she found the little stamp in the left corner of the driver’s door. Her phone beeped.

 **From Dean [4:43 p.m.]:** Enjoying your ride? Courtesy of Dad, actually. Mom said, [quote] don’t get yourself killed.

 **From Emma [4:44 p.m.]:** Woah, THAT is a car. Tell Mom I’ll be fine. The trunk is kinda small though. I mean I don’t own much, but Jesus…there is fuel pump where empty space should be

 **From Dean [4:50 p.m.]:** She purrs like a kitten and she runs like a Kentucky Derby winner, though. See you in a bit, eyes on the road, hands to 11 and 2

She was speeding a little, not enough to get her into trouble but just enough to feel the nearly 300 horsepower of the car under her. It was great but not as great as a bike. She made it to Lawrence in under 40 minutes (okay, maybe she was speeding enough to get her into trouble) and pulled into the driveway of the white and blue suburban house in country style she grew up in. Obviously, the Winchesters tended to the old building lovingly. It looked better than it had 5 years ago, no paint peeling off, the shingles new, the lawn neatly kept, and surrounded by flower beds (now of course bare of any flowers) that would look beautiful in the summer. One could tell that Kansas Tyres allowed them to live a little. Four years ago, when Dean moved out and bought his own little house a couple of streets down, Bobby and John renovated the place, a brand new kitchen, living area and barbecue in the backyard included. She was wondering for a minute if she was supposed to help to install the outdoor decorations, because it was December 12th already and no ugly plastic Santa was sitting on the lawn, or if her parents stopped that stupid tradition now the kids were out of the house, when she was attack- bear-hugged by surprise. Arms like logs pulled around her back and she was lifted up solid 4 inches.

“Hey, Sammy”, she muffled, mouth full of his hair when he pulled her even closer pressing all air out of her lungs. He let her go a little and she was able to take a forced breath when he pulled her in again. She made a half painful sound like a whimper and managed to say:  “You are smothering me Sammy, no kidding.” He let her down with a laugh and she had a couple of seconds to prepare herself when her other brother approached her beaming like an idiot. At least he wasn’t trying to herborize her. His hug was almost gentle. He buried his face in her shoulder for a second and she felt a shudder running through him. Guilt washed over her and she gripped Dean a little tighter.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured, but the only reply she got was a little shake of his head when he pulled away, still grinning all over the face but with tears in his eyes. The feeling of guilt multiplied when her mother was next, outright crying in the arms of her prodigal daughter until Emma started to feel slightly uncomfortable and shot glances at Dean and her father. Greeting John resulted in an awkward mix between a hug, a handshake and a friendly pat on the shoulder. They stepped away from each other muttering pleasantries and apologies.

“So,” she looked around. “Where is the rest? Cain? Jess? Bobby? Emmi?”

“Inside,” Sam replied. “It’s a little too frosty for the minor-senior-expecting faction.”

Emma pulled her duffle from the back seed along with a small traveling bag. 14 years in the army and all she actually owned fit in two bags. She probably needed to go shopping at some point in the future. Expecting?

“Wait! What? Who is expecting? Jess is pregnant?” If possible Sam got even bigger when he beamed with pride. She stared at him surprised, and frankly a little annoyed. He was kind of an ass about Dean and Cain having a child via surrogate without being married already (Not that they had planned it), some part of his brain mind-washed by Bible Belt fanatics (he was full frontal pro LGBT, but somehow he filed unmarried couples having babies under slightly immoral). So she couldn’t help but ask.

“So I missed a wedding, huh?” Sam turned bright red. It was possible that Emma army-instructed the hell out of Sam when he bitched in front of Dean and Cain about the topic, leaving Dean behind quite upset and with the ever-present feeling of being a disappointment once renewed. She was on the verge to drive to Cali and smack him on the head, letting him go down to show her some serious military push-ups. However, Sam realized very quickly what an ass he was (Jess helped with that) and apologized to Dean. Now he was little Emma’s godfather. He started to stammer. Dean rolled his eyes, while Emma just grinned.

“It’s okay, Sam, I’m just messing with you. Congrats man,” she slapped him on the shoulder. They moved the party to the inside where Emma faced more hugs, a big bowl of Chili, homebrew beer from Cain and yet more hugs. She carried around her little niece, who happily babbled nonsense and after 2 hours Aunt Emma got exhausted. She wasn’t used to so much attention and small talk for the matter. Dean read the signs first, suddenly hushing Cain that Emmi would need to be fed soon and that she would become cranky and that it would be better to do it at home and all that jazz and they were short on fleeing the house, much to the amusement of Emma. Bobby took his leave next after making an appointment with her to meet at the Roadhouse the next day. Sam and Jess went to their room shortly after and Emma landed in the kitchen with her parents, drinking a cup of herbal tea and found herself in a very domestic conversation about grocery shopping, household chores and the process of the renovation. It was nice and when she was in bed later that night staring at a stupid Star Wars poster she couldn’t help but smile a little. She was home, and it felt nice.


	4. December 22nd

Christmas shopping two days before Christmas was a bad idea. Emma stood in the middle of the Malls Shopping Center while interchangeable music babbled over her and stressed people with 1st world problem like hers (no idea what they should give their loved ones for Christmas) hurried through the aisles. She hoped for some inspiration but swayed at the moment between vouchers and the announcement that her being home should be present enough. She sighed. She was fairly certain that the Dodge would be her Christmas present since Dad gave Baby to Dean, although she was supposed to get her. It was too much. They could sell a car in that condition for nearly 60K, and as a respectable business owner, she would need a bigger car, like a truck, anyway. You could only transport that many beer kegs in a Dodge Challenger. Thanks to the climate change the winter so far was too warm and too dry, giving her the possibility to start with the renovations on the Roadhouse already. Money wasn’t a problem at all. Bobby signed her over the Roadhouse for symbolic dollar, leaving a substantial sum of her savings untouched and gave her the possibility to hire a company to fix the roof, the windows and the water damage in the foundation before the winter would inevitably hit them. Then she could start with the interior. She would need a new beer pump, the counter and the hardwood floor were in terrible condition, the kitchen and the restrooms were still okay, although she would need to make some changes to go along with some new health regulations, she would need a whole new set of dishes, glasses, cutlery and furniture, and then there was that tidbit of the living area upstairs. There never really was one, but there was enough space and she was planning on installing a large bathroom, an open kitchen/living area, a master bedroom and a guest room. The tackling Winchester she was, always head first down to the nitty-gritty she already hired an architect to come up with some plans and some interior design proposals. Dean, John, and Bobby were happy to help and the progress she made in the last 10 days was impressive. Being that busy she hadn’t had much quality time to spend with her family, but at least her lack of procrastinating assured her mother and Dean that she was actually planning on staying for good. So, presents. She moved her left shoulder a little, relieving herself from the tickling tension on her skin at least a bit. It was worse when she was forced to wear thick clothes. Vouchers it was, she thought. Not that clever and thoughtful, but hey, she could still do better on the following birthdays and Christmases, right? She scanned her vicinity for suitable shops and stopped her gaze on a tiny girl standing 3 meters away from her, mustering her neck with focused sobriety. She was maybe 5, not much of a threat, and Emma knew exactly what she was staring at, but she was doing it for a while now and Emma wondered where her parents were. She also wondered if she would look like a pervert or child stealing crazy woman in her worn out jeans, her battered Chucks, an old KU sweater from Sam and one of Deans’ cargo jackets, because she honest to god didn’t own warm clothes of her own and she hadn’t found the time to go shopping for them. She would buy some stuff online around the holidays. That was the plan at least. She shrugged and took some steps forwards, locking eyes with the little girl. She was a pale redhead and her eyes had a blue piercing color. She was pretty, for a 5-year-old and she stared at Emma with more confidence than she should have.

“Hey”, Emma said nonchalantly and put her hands in her pockets. “Where’s your mother?” The girl tilted her head a little, an awkward gesture that reminded Emma off a bird. Long stretching seconds she didn’t answer and Emma was nearly convinced she would run away any second, but then she decided to speak.

“My Mummy is dead”, she deadpanned. Whoa, blunt, was what Emma thought.

“Okay, sorry to hear that. Where is your father then? Or your grandparents? The adults who brought you here?”

“My Daddy is here”, she stated, biting her lips like she remembered something important. “He said I shouldn’t talk to strangers”, Emma shrugged again.

“And yet here we are, talking. So did he just dropped you here and told you to stay put or are you lost?” She let her gaze wander over the customers of the mall. No one looked like a spooked father on the edge of hysteria searching for his lost daughter. The girl started to fidget in her lap. That was all answer Emma needed. There was clearly guilt in her posture. The girl had sneaked away.

“I was supposed to stay behind him, but I wanted to see the little bunnies,” Emma just nodded. If she would have any idea how to speak child she would probably get what the girl meant, but it didn’t matter now. For that kind of situations, Mall Security was invented.

“Okay, munchkin. What’s your name? I’m Emma,” she said, using a pet name she had for Sam all those years ago and she would probably use for little Emma in the future.

“Anna,” the girl whispered, clearly afraid that she was in some kind of trouble now.

“Hey, look at me, its fine. Your Dad won’t be mad, he is probably worried sick, but he will be happy to get you back. So,” she held out her hand and after some intense thinking behind the little girl's eyes, Anna took it. Her hand was cold and sweaty. Despite her confidence on the outside, she was scared. “I will bring you to the Mall Security, alright? Your Dad probably alarmed them already. That would at least be what I’d do,” she smiled at the girl reassuringly and together they made their way to the opposite side of the Mall. No one paid them any attention and Emma wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing. The Mall wasn’t the Mall of America. Shouldn’t there be some Security guards walking around close by looking for Anna? She moved her shoulder again. That caught Anna’s attention.

“What is this on your neck,” she asked. Emma looked down at her.

“It’s a scar, from a fire.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Nah, not really. But it itches sometimes.”

“Did your house burn down?” Emma frowned a little. That was a very detailed question and the girl’s mother was dead, so maybe …

“I was in a car accident,” she said. Children really didn’t get the whole I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-it vibe. But at least she could be vague. That information seemed to be sufficient for the girl because she nodded knowingly. She was in that weird precocious age where she appeared wiser then she was. Emma smiled a little on that. She opened the glass door of the Security Office just to step back immediately and pulled the door shut quickly.

“Uhm, Anna would you do me a favor and just stay put here for a second? I’ll be right back, okay? Just a second, no wandering off, all right?” Anna seemed confused, but she nodded and so Emma took the shot. She slipped inside the office again. No one noticed her because of all the yelling. The office obviously was sound proof. A dark-haired man in a black short coat and dark blue Jeans was yelling at a very intimidated blond woman in a shopping mall cop uniform. By the looks of it, he was doing it for a while now. At the moment he played the I-am-the-police card, so he was a real cop. This must be a field day for him. Emma harrumphed. Then she harrumphed again. Then she decided to unpack her serious voice, the one she used to bark orders.

“Excuse me?” was enough. The man turned to her annoyed, sky blue eyes piercing into her. Yep, this was Anna’s father. No doubt about that.

“Who are you? What do you want?” he barked in return, obviously used to give orders as well. She wasn’t impressed.

“Yeah, you might want to tune it down a bit? Because I found your little girl and I kind of promised her you wouldn’t be mad at her and seriously? You look like you are about to hulk out. She’s outside, didn’t want to bring her here, she’s traumatized enough already.”

He stared at her in disbelief and let his gaze trail behind her, looking for his daughter. He actually could see her little figure standing behind the milky glass of the office wall. This was all it took. Using the name of God in vain under his breath he hurried outside. She watched while he checked his daughter for any obvious injuries, pulled her close and lifted her up just to stampede away without any further word. The blond woman let out a sigh of relief. Emma raised an eyebrow.

“What a dick,” she said, pointing her thump in the general direction. The woman chuckled a little.

“Yeah, you betcha. Thanks for bringing her here. We are understaffed right now,” Emma shook her hand and glanced at her name tag.

“No thanks for that … Donna. If he comes back to make another scene just remind him that it was him who lost his daughter in the first place,” she smirked, gaining another chuckle from Donna. Emma bought some vouchers, mostly for books, toys, and household stuff and wandered to her car. It was getting dark already. He had been very handsome, that was for sure. _Why is it always the good looking ones that are dicks_?


	5. December 23rd

“I behaved like an asshole,” Cas sighed and leaned on his police car. Dean was up to his elbows inside the motor. He had changed the oil and renewed some spark plugs. Cas could do this alone, but Dean wouldn’t let him. The car was a mobile advertisement. Not many Kansas Police Chiefs could drive around in a 2006 Ford Mustang Shelby GT500 and Dean had restored it from a traffic accident wreck. It looked impressive and like some car out of the latest GTA or Hollywood blockbuster. Screw you Ford Mustang Saleen. Dean should do the Transformer cars.

“You were worried. You always act like an ass when you are worried about Anna. So don’t sweat it.”

“What if they knew who I was? The chief of police losing his temper yelling at some shopping mall cop and the woman who found his daughter. She looked like a homeless person. What if I yelled at a homeless person? I didn’t only behave like an ass, I am an ass.”

“She was no homeless person.”

“How do you know? She looked like it, with her oversized shabby clothes,” Dean chuckled.

“Okay, you are an ass, and a snob your highness. Give me the box spanner,” Cas looked puzzled at the toolbox. No, it was a tool closet and there were way too many tools inside. He grabbed the first thing he saw and hold it to Dean. Dean made a surprised sound.

“Wow, luck or do you knew what I meant?”

“Luck,” Cas huffed. He looked crisp in his uniform and he was well aware that Jo stared at him. She was hitting on him the first day she laid eyes on him, but she was way too young and immature for him to even consider asking her out.

“How’s it going with your sister? All good?”

“Yeah,” Dean cleaned is hands on a rug and shut the hood. “She is busy, though. Wasting no time with the Roadhouse. Keeps her pretty much occupied. You and the little one are still coming on Boxing Day, right? Then you will finally meet her.”

“Yes, we will be there for dinner. Gabe is on one of his vacations anyway,” Cas took his jacket and threw it on the back seat.

“Thank God. I like your brother but I am not sure if I could stand him another Christmas dinner. Speaking of siblings, I will be honest with you. I am not sure if you and Em will get along,” Cas lifted an eyebrow.

“Why’s that?”

“Yeah,” Dean rubbed his neck. “I know that you think her coming back was a bad idea. I mean I know you long enough now. I just can tell. That she is a bad influence or something. And she, well, she is pretty good at reading people, I mean scary good. She will give you one look and she will see, hey, this guy doesn’t like me. That’s kind of her worst character trait; she cannot let something like that just go. She is not very good at pretending to be something she isn’t or to like somebody just for the sake of others. She will always pick a fight. I mean she totally scared away Ruby and she wasn’t even here, just meeting the girl one time. So, yeah, I think you guys will bust heads a little. Uhm, and because you are the mature one of you two, at least in my opinion, I am asking you now to keep it down when this happens,” Cas looked perplexed.

“Dean, it never was my intention to give you the impression…,” Dean interrupted him.

“It’s okay, no worries. You are not the only person with reservations. You are allowed to have them. You don’t know her the way I do. She pulled some serious stunts on us, no denial there. But I would also ask you if you could find it in you to maybe like her, I would be happy as well,” Dean made this thing with his eyes where he looked up through heavy lashes and just was adorable. Cas rolled his eyes.

“This isn’t working on me, Dean. Save your Yedi charm for Cain or your parents. But okay, I try my best and even if we end up despising each other I will solemnly swear I will not get into an argument with her on the Christmas table, alright?”

“That’s all I’m asking for.”


	6. December 24th

“Problem is, Emmi…none of these dresses cover my shoulder and your granny would not like it. Ideas?” Emmi cooed and repeated the word granny a couple of times. Not really helpful.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she sighed and let herself drop on the bed and looked at her niece. She didn’t mind the scars covering her left shoulder, part of her arm down to the middle of her back and her left flank. Emma couldn’t do much about them anyway. She hated the itching, true, but her mother couldn’t stand the sight. Emma didn’t get injured often during duty. She got shot twice, one time in the left leg, the second time just graze shot on her left arm (Hey, this one was barely noticeable with all the burn scar tissue). Mostly she got bruises and sprains, a lot of bruises and sprains, and the one or other head wound. Even when she got captured these two times she came out okay, little skinnier, lot more beaten up, but mostly okay. Getting trapped in a burning Humvee was another story. Benny pulled her out. She was in a coma for 9 weeks, mostly induced, due to the epic fume poisoning and the third-degree burning. They treated her in Landstuhl, Germany until she was stable enough to get transported to Washington D.C. That was pretty much her first rodeo and although they give her an opportunity to quit she stayed in the army. Eight months later she applied for the Rangers. 12 months later she applied again. Another 14 months later she was the first woman on the Army Rangers. Five years later she had her own squad, her own operations and was pretty much famous among the recruits. They were good. Maybe it was hubris, but actually, it was bad luck. It was a normal extraction operation. There wasn’t even an imminent threat, just got the American family out of the potential war zone in Whocares, Africa. It was an ambush (They forbid Balt to say “It’s a trap” in the voice of Admiral Agbar months ago). They ended up surrounded by soldiers younger and higher than they should be. The last thing she saw after a round of an AK 47 more by accident than by aim blew Cody’s head to shreds was the handle of that gun approaching her forehead blowing her lights out. Five months they moved Benny and her around the jungle. They treated them alright. Emma would never eat sorghum again. They got away because their captors went sloppy. Again she landed in Landstuhl, this time just for checkups. When she was back in Fort Benning Balthazar and Zack were spooked because everyone who could care was told that Benny and she were dead. They wouldn’t give her a leave, too much administration stuff to deal with to bring them back to the land of the living, too much fear they might have gotten Homeland during their captivation. Hell, they didn’t even allow her to give her family a call. Meanwhile, in Kansas her mother’s worst nightmare became true and they had to bury their only daughter, not even actually their daughter, an empty casket, only to get shell-shocked to the core when Emma called. Oh, she didn’t actually talk to anybody in her family: she left a fragmented voicemail on Dean’s phone due to spectacular bad sat phone reception. She was on her way to South America by the time and finally allowed to call. Later the army set up something more official. Of course, she was aware of the damage that caused, but she never really felt responsible for the mess. She didn’t fake her death, the government declared her dead. Huge difference. A couple of fights later, mostly with Dean and Bobby who were the only persons who were still willed to talk to her, they somehow forgave her. She still wasn’t okay that she was the one that was supposed to be forgiven, but however, she meant her sorry anyway. And now she was supposed to be sensitive around her mother and hide her scars. Well okay, but she couldn’t do that forever. Kansas was pretty warm in the summer. Lisa came in.

“You found something?” she asked cheerfully, lifting up Emmi. Lisa Braeden was Deans sort of ex-girlfriend and her sort of ex-BFF in high school. She never really got what happened between her and her brother, but Lisa was cool and Lisa offered that she could borrow some nice clothes for the Christmas dinner. Well, Lisa and Emma had nearly the same build, Emma was a bit taller, but Lisa’s taste was…candid?

Well, maybe I should just take the black dress and wear a cardigan or something. I can’t hide all of it anyways,” she was well aware that Lisa, who stood behind her carrying Emmi around, was checking out her scar. Let her stare. It would become boring real soon.

“That’ll work”, Lisa smiled, leaving Emma to change again. The lack of females in her family and the preference of her mother to wear pale colored dresses and blouses (so not her style) had her wearing an oversized Henley and a sweater jacket, courtesy of Dean Winchester, today. She cut her hair the other day. She didn’t have a real haircut for 15 years, now she went for a fringy bob. It looked good. Emma was always more on the red side considering her hair color, lighter then Johns but darker than Deans and Sams with a warm red tone in it. She had usually very light skin, pronouncing the freckles Dean was only showing in this extent in sunny summers and her eyes were as green as Mary’s. Not Dean’s piercing green, more like a shallow tropical ocean. The family resemblance between her brothers, mostly Dean and her was uncanny, strong jaws, long nose, plush lips. Her features were softer though, more feminine, and she looked older than Dean, years of war paid their price in form of sorrow wrinkles around her eyes and lips, although she always was able to handle the psychological stress better than the physical. Now, when she stood in front of Lisa’s obscene large mirror in that dress that was actually a little too tight she thought “Not bad, Winchester”, maybe she was able to impress that single father friend Dean was talking about all the time after all. And he was the Chief of Police. Wait a minute. Her thoughts were rudely interrupted by Dean coming in without knocking. She turned and gave him a look.

“You might be gay, but I am still your very half naked sister and older sister as it is”, he shrugged.

“Yeah, 25 minutes older isn’t counting, you know that. And there is nothing inside this room I’ve never seen before. Including you half naked. You look good by the way. But, you need to hurry, Mom needs our help with the preparations, I need to get Emmi back, and you probably want to cover that up a little later”, she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Unzip me, pal, and then out of the room”

“Pal?”

“Yeah, pal. It sounded better in my head”, he opened her zipper, eyes trimmed on the scar. She could see it in the mirror. He turned red.

“You know what I like about Cain?” she said nonchalantly. He met her eyes. “He never stares”, she said coolly. If possible Dean turned even redder.

“I’m sorry”, he murmured.

“Yeah, I know, and it’s okay. But it’s been twelve years and I am here now. Better get used to it. I cannot hide this forever. I will wear tops in summer, go to the lake, take a sunbath in the backyard. You cannot always freak out because of some scar tissue.”

“I know. And it’s not the scar itself. It’s more what it means. You put yourself in danger, you could have gotten hurt, killed, and hell you’ve got hurt, we thought you were dead, we buried you. You didn’t even care to tell. Do you have any idea…,” he interrupted himself, took a deep breath. They had this conversation before. He would only start to yell, or worse, to cry. So he turned and walked away. Emma sighed. Merry Christmas. Downstairs she wasn’t surprised that Dean was gone, probably bringing Emmi home. She had no ride now, awesome. She let herself fall onto Lisa’s couch and not even waited for a courtesy second to grab the offered glass of amber liquid. Lisa was bringing out the good stuff.

“What happened with Dean?”

“He got upset, about”, she made a vague gesture with her hand. “That. Do you want to give me shit about it, Lis? Go ahead!” Lisa just scoffed.

“I actually had my fair share of bitching. I mean I get it, they worry. You kept all that stuff from them. That was probably a good idea, but maybe not. I honestly don’t know. And that being dead thing? A whole pile of crap. But it was your life, your decision. So, I don’t know, give it time. They will get better,” Emma smiled humorlessly.

“Ever the cheerleader, huh? Good to have at least one person on my team,” she raised her glass, drunk up and said her goodbyes. It was maybe 4 miles home, she could easily walk that, and she could use the time to think. She was halfway there, thinking about it she could really punch someone in the face right now and wondered if Crowley’s boxing gym was still there when the short hauling of a police siren startled her. Sure enough, a police car stopped right behind her.

“What now?” she asked the universe in general and turned around, hands where they could see them. She didn’t have it in her to get in trouble this night. She couldn’t see the face of the cop getting out of the car, but she could see the car, and oh boy…

“Are you driving around in Barricade?” the Cop stopped his hand kind of hovering over his gun belt unsure what to make of this comment.

“I don’t understand that reference,” he finally said. Emma rolled her eyes again. Looking closer she saw that it was the wrong model, but anyway, it looked like something straight out of an action movie.

“Is this even a real police car?” He came closer, a confused look on his face. She recognized the eyes.

“I can assure you, I am a real police officer, actually…”

“Oh no, it’s you!” she interrupted him.

“Excuse me?”

“Look, I didn’t do anything, I just walk here. It’s not even that late. I am just a regular Jane on her way the night before Christmas. No need to arrest anybody.”

“It never was my intention,” he narrowed his eye. “You are the woman from the Mall, who found my daughter.”

“You’re welcome, can I go?” He tilted his head the way his daughter did the other day.

“Actually I would like to apologize.”

“Yeah, fine. All is forgiven, can I go now?” he sighed heavily, like the weight of the world was on his shoulder, right here, right now.

“Of course, I just wanted to ask you if everything is alright. Good night. Oh wait, can I at least give you a ride somewhere? The place you plan to stay tonight, maybe?” she shook her head.

“No thanks, I’m good,” she turned around and started walking, repeating his words in her head.

“Wait! What? The place I am planning to stay tonight? Seriously? You think I’m a bum?”

Cas took a step back when she approached him a couple of feet. His hand automatically went to his gun. Her eyes narrowed down, fixed on his movement, offended by his aggressive gesture. He removed the hand quickly from it and even got the courtesy to blush a little.

“I prefer homeless person?” he offered. She sent him some death glares.

“Political correctness, really? What kind of police officer are you? Unbelievable,” she turned around and walked away with fast steady strides. Cas hit his head two or three times against the car. He screwed up, again. No doubt she would think he was 100 percent a dick. Just great. He never saw that woman in his life and now he had managed to insult her twice in two days. He got back in the car and continued his patrol, making sure he was driving in the opposite direction.

Emma was so pissed she barely noticed where she went and before she could fathom it she was lost. While she waited for google maps to load, completely ignoring the text messages from Dean and her Mom, a silver Minivan stopped next to her.

“Get in the car!”

“He drives around in that fancy muscle cars and all you got is a Minivan?”

“It’s a safe car, okay? I set priorities and that is the safety of our daughter. I don’t care so much about status. Get in already”, she opened the door not without a protest look.

“When safety is so important to you why is there a booster seat strapped in the back seat of the Impala?” Cain shrugged.

“For Dean status isn’t very important either, but Emmi sleeps like, well, a baby when we drive her around in Baby. Usually, he uses this car, though, when he has to drive her. Usually,” she scoffed.

“I will probably tease him with that.”

“I am well aware, but these are the kind of things you have to expect when you leave somebody behind without a ride,” Cain smirked.

He pulled back on the street and they sat a minute in silence.

“So you drive around the neighborhood looking for me?”

“Basically. Lisa said you decided to walk home. People got worried. Your folks half expect you to be one foot in a B52 already. You might not want to comment on that. I know what you want to say. Be happy it’s me looking for you and not the rest of the mop with flares and bloodhounds like a proper rescue party,” Emma scoffed again. Finally, she muttered thanks.

“It’s not Dean I’m pissed off by the way. I am pissed off by a Cop who thought that I’m a hobo.”

Cain looked down on her for some long seconds and raised an eyebrow.

“Well, you might wanna get rid of that jacket.”


	7. December 25th

**From Cas [9:20 a.m.]:** When is dinner starting tonight?

 **From Dean [9:22 a.m.]:** Merry Christmas to U, too ;)

 **From Cas [9:22 a.m.]:** Sry, not really awake right now. Merry Christmas

 **From Dean [9:24 a.m.]:** 6 p.m. sharp … bring booze … rough night? Anna OK?

 **From Cas [9:30 a.m.]:** Anna’s fine, happy among her presents. Candied. Met the woman from the Mall last night

 **From Dean [9:34 a.m.]:** the “homeless” chick?

 **From Cas [9:37 a.m.]:** I might called her that

 **From Dean [9:37 a.m.]:** ^_^ hahaha

 **From Cas [9:38 a.m.]:** That is not funny Dean. She was not amused

 **From Dean [9:40 a.m.]:** No kidding … u could be lucky she didn’t slap u … what is the saying? U always meet twice? So, no worries, u are safe now :D

 **From Cas [9:45 a.m.]:** I might get drunk tonight

 **From Dean [9:52 a.m.]:** wouldn’t expect less … free country …

 **From Cas [9:55 a.m.]:** good

Dean put his phone is Emmi's diaper bag and glared at his sister who stood with her back to them (and their Minivan) and obviously appreciated her car.

“You two are still fighting?” Cain asked while he tried to fumble open the excessively complicated belt system of his daughter's seat. She tried to help which wasn’t helping.

“Cas and I?”

“You and Emma”, Dean turned around and opened the belt with one pointedly move earning a don’t-show-off look from Cain.

“Nah, we good. We go the Winchester way: pretend nothing happened, silently upbraiding everything.”

“That is great, sounds very straightforward. You know, at some point you actually need to talk to each other.”

“We did talk about this a lot, this is how it usually goes.”

“Well, let me put it differently: at some point, you need to actually listen to each other.”

Dean’s eyes went soft for a moment when he let sink in Cain’s words. He sighed.

“You are so old, you know that”, Cain gave him a quick peck on the lips. “I mean wise, wise not old. Aren’t these two synonyms?” Cain kissed him a little harder while pinching him in the side. Dean flinched (and did not make a very unmanly whimper while doing so).

“Not in front of the little one, she’s traumatized enough for having Beethoven as her father,” he laughed, rumpling Cain’s hair. He fake-rolled his eyes.

“I should have never shown you how to open an internet browser,” he pulled away and grabbed Emmi's stuff. “Go say hi to your sister! Apologize or something! You let her walk through the cold after all.”

Dean got out of the car after he was sure that Cain could handle their daughter and strolled to his sister who was taking a photo of what was now officially her Dodge. She looked up to Dean and quickly to Cain and Emmi. She grinned.

“Heya, soccer mom”, Dean groaned.

“These cars are really convenient and reliable, and very safe if you really have an accident.”

“So I heard, and they have a surprisingly powerful engine. I mean, you will need 250 HP if you want to make it to your daughter’s oboe solo in time after you got your mangina waxed, right?”

“Tsk, are you making fun of my suburban life?”

“Nope, I am making fun of your suburban life _choices_. I mean a Honda Odyssey? This car is labeled as family friendly, reliable and ugly as hell. I always picked you as a Chevrolet Orlando guy,” Dean had to laugh. “What’s gotten into you to buy this abomination instead?”

“The roughly 100 horsepower advantage,” he shrugged. She gave him a long thoughtful look.

“I can’t argue with that, can I?” her phone buzzed.

“Secret boyfriend? Girlfriend?” Dean asked. She chuckled.

“Yeah, no. I mean as much as I am into older, British guys…”

“Who isn’t?”

“Balthazar is so far gone over the rainbow he might as well be in Oz right now. I am making him jealous with my new classic car which is, by the way, a great gift. Little too much, though.”

“You could always sell it.”

“Hell no, this piece is awesome, I might as well name her.”

“Baby is taken. Why are you hanging around the house?”

“The soon-to-be-mother faction makes me want to check the perimeter for security breaches every ten minutes. Not sure if including Emmi in the mix and later that little daughter of your BFF will reduce my urge to go on regular patrols,” he frowned at her, trying to find out if she was joking or meant what she said. She seemed pretty serious.

“You expecting an air strike or something?” he joked half-heartedly. She smiled.

“Nope, but,” she said thoughtfully, turning around and leaning on her car. “I am kind of used to think of everybody as civilians which I have to keep away from any action, which I have to keep safe. And seriously? Having everybody I love in one room in a situation that I don’t control is kind of freaking me out a bit. Nothing I can’t handle, just a tiny itch. Being outside helps,” Dean was surprised. She usually didn’t talk about anything like that, never. He sure knew that her devil-may-care posture regarding her army time was probably bullshit and that she was indeed somehow affected by it (even if just mildly), but she _never_ showed. He knew that Cas had nightmares, and he was in the army for like ten minutes, gotten shot on a training mission, of all places, by his friend, of all people. He cleared his throat.

“Well, there isn’t much need to control anything, you know that right?” she laughed at that.

“Of course I know that. Doesn’t change the urge, though. But don’t worry. So, Dean. Anything you wanna tell me? Like feeling a little bit like shit for storming off leaving me at your ex-girlfriends place?” Dean scratched his neck.

“Yeah, about that. Sorry. And Lis is your friend, too. I mean you guys hung out together and shit.”

“Smokin’ behind the dumpsters, sneakin’ into the movies, hangin’ out with college guys, gettin’ knocked up behind the bleachers, makin’ Mom and Dad worry she might be a bad influence, although I was the bad influence. Good times;” she slapped his thigh. “Let’s go inside. It’s after 10 a.m. on Boxing Day, let’s get hammered.”

~

Although there was little more she wished for than getting plastered on egg nog hanging around on the sofa and watching cheesy Christmas movies this was denied from her. Instead, she cleaned dish after bowl after pot just to clean the same dishes again, while everybody else was buzzing around the house, busy with preparing enough food to feed a middle-sized country. After the pumpkin pie incident of 2007’s Thanksgiving she was entrusted with peeling potatoes and hand washing dishes, nothing else. It was not like the _whole_ house had caught fire or something… She could see the driveway of the backyard garage from here and gazed absently into space as a pimped police car pulled in. Little puzzle pieces fell into place and the nagging thought in the back of her head finally made it to the front row: Dean’s best friend/single father/Chief Castiel Novak was that asshole she kept running into the past couple of days. How on earth could she not deduce that? Who else but the Chief would drive that car? Anna had told her that her mother was dead. She knew that Castiel had a little daughter turning 5 in April who lost her mother in childbirth. She knew all the facts. Emma usually didn’t believe in coincidences, but obviously, now she had discounted all events as just that, coincidences. Sure enough, she saw the black-haired man getting out of the car and opening the back door. Anna hoped out and stood quietly next to him while he got two large bags out of the trunk. He hung one over his shoulder to have a free hand for Anna’s and the little girl grabbed it happily. Together they made their way to the house. He could clearly see her illuminated by the kitchen light and it would have been funny seeing his eyes widen in an almost comical manner if she weren’t suddenly very aware of the fact that she wore a daringly décolleté dress. Well, at least he won’t take her for a derelict, but for a prostitute instead. She stepped away from the sink, drying her hands on a towel.

“You gotta be kidding me,” she muttered under her breath. “I think your friend Castiel is here,” she said clearer to Dean who looked at her like her head was on fire.

“You okay? You look a little spooked,” she rolled her eyes. That is what you get for sharing a tiny bit of your tiny bit of PTSD. Mother-henning.

“I am peachy. I might run into him a couple of times, Castiel I mean, the other day in the mall and yesterday night. It didn’t, I don’t know, went well? I am … surprised to see him here, I guess,” actually absolutely pissed that it has to be him of all people was what she thought. Dean nodded, clearly still in the dark and then she could practically see it: knowledge crawled in his face accompanied by utter amusement. That little shit knew what happened, of course, Castiel told him everything, and he thought it was funny.

“Oh,” was what he said. He barely hid a grin and went to open the back door. He faced a petrified Cas who was carefully eyed by his daughter. She had asked him twice already why they weren’t going in. She wanted to be inside, eat Mary’s cookies and play with Emma.

“Heya, Merry Christmas!” Anna yelled an Uncle Dean, shortly hugged is legs and ran inside ignoring her dysfunctional Dad completely. Cas eyes suddenly snapped to Dean.

“Why on earth didn’t you tell me that it was your sister?” he almost hissed.

“Until 12 seconds ago I didn’t know it was her. She isn’t exactly the let-me-tell-you-about-my-day type. Why didn’t you know it was her? You saw photos of her, a lot I might say,” Cas sighed and palmed his face.

“I don’t know, she was either very young or in uniform, I just, I guess I didn’t connect the pictures to her in real life. I cannot get in there,” he deadpanned. Dean scoffed.

“Don’t be stupid. Why? Because you guys met on the wrong foot?”

“Do I have to remind you that it was you who said that she won’t let go of such a thing and rather start a fight? I will not go inside and be part of ruining Christmas.”

“If you grab Anna and run you ruin Christmas already, for us and for her. You come inside. I will talk to her, okay? God dammit, don’t be a child,” to emphasize what he just said he took one of the bags and walked inside leaving Cas basically no choice but to follow. He was greeted by the Winchesters and the extended Winchester family with hugs and Christmas wishes. He was thankful that Emma was nowhere to be seen, something that was also noticed by diverse members of the family.

“Where is your sister?” Mary asked Dean. Dean shrugged nonchalantly.

“Probably in the kitchen, I will go get her,” he almost made a run for the kitchen, pulling Cain with him.

“What’s gotten into you?” the older man murmured gazing Dean with a raised eyebrow.

“Remember the woman I told you about who Cas somehow managed to piss off royally?” Cain nodded slowly, unsure where this was heading.

“It was Emma, and now he is scared like no one’s business that she will give him shit in front of anybody. And you know him, he hates nothing more than to be in the middle of a good old public scene, and you know her, she loves nothing more than to make good old public scenes. And because they are both thickheaded alphas this will end bloody, and I hope just metaphorical speaking. So this should be interesting.”

Cain was quiet for a couple of seconds processing what he just heard. Then he fixed his eyes on Dean’s, giving him one of this Cain patented serious glares.

“That cannot happen, not on her first Christmas home since forever. Your mother would be devastated,” Dean lifted his hand in a gesture of surrender.

“I know, that’s why I will go and try to convince her to lay down her arms for the night, unleashing hell another time, but I need you to back me up. You are some kind of voice of reason she somehow sometimes actually listens to.” That was true, surprisingly enough, but the few times he actually met her in person in the past few words of him convinced her more easily than whole speeches from someone else. Emma lent on the kitchen counter, a glass of red wine in her hand she tumbled absently. She lifted her eyes when Dean and Cain came in bracing herself for whatever came next.

“Intervention?” she asked dryly.

“Something like that,” Dean grinned rubbing the back of his neck.

“He was beyond rude,” she started but then stopped. She actually didn’t know how to go on. All she wanted to do was to storm inside the living room and yell at him what a dumbfounded asshole he was, or even better, rearrange the geography of his face. Despite the anger, she frowned a little about that thought. She really needed to find out if Crowley’s boxing gym still existed. But there was her mother, and Emmi, and that little girl Anna, and a very pregnant Jess who was unbearable emotional so this wasn’t going to happen anyway, right? She drowned her glass in one gulp.

“I know, but listen to me. He is sorry for what he said, okay? Not just now when he realized it was you, the other day as well. He told me that. He is actually a great guy.”

“Is he now,” she poured herself more wine but didn’t drink it. She probably should stay sober for this.

“Yep, he is one of the good guys. Please be nice. Just for tonight, you can be as angry as you want, but please can it, for Emma’s and Anna’s sake. For everybody’s sake, alright?” she gave him one of her looks.

“I don’t like that you treat me like a loose cannon, but okay. I will try to ignore him, that’s all I can offer,” she put the glass on the counter. That meant she really needed to stay sober. What a waste on a holiday. She and her father would end up in the designated driver corner. She actually could control herself, probably better than anyone else could control oneself, but seriously? She didn’t want to. People tended to think she had some kind of aggression issues, that something in her just snapped and she went haywire. That wasn’t the case. Every time she got in a fight, the one in high school included, she made a conscious decision to bring out the big guns. Sure, she sometimes had the urge to punch somebody, like now, but that was nothing a hard long run, or ideally, some rounds on a punching bag or in the sparring ring couldn’t fix. She glared at Cain.

“You have something you care to share with the class as well?” she asked him. He shrugged.

“I guess if you really want to hulk out there is not much we can throw at you anyway, so all we can do is ask,” she brought her eyebrows together which looked more like defeat than frowning.

“You still have Sam, he is really tall,” she lifted her hand a couple of inches above her head. Dean sighed in relief. If she was able to make jokes again they might be fine. Five minutes later she stood in front of Castiel who looked like he was caught masturbating by his mother, arms crossed in front of her chest and exchanged meaningless pleasantries with him. Everybody could tell something was off, but they stayed civil, so no one commented. Anna, who of course recognized her beamed at her proudly. She showed her the doll she got for Christmas and told her that she was almost not disappointed that she didn’t get a bunny. She also mentioned that her Dad indeed wasn’t mad at her but relieved and even apologized for losing her. Emma couldn’t help to feel a bit of satisfaction there, he might be a jerk around people but he obviously was kind to his daughter.

~

It would have been easier if she wouldn’t have been that hot. Cas probably blushed at his own thoughts, but she was gorgeous. He might have a type, sort of red hair, tall, pale. Anna’s mother was a tall, fair skinned red-head, but Emma was model material. He couldn’t really process how someone that muscular could look so feminine and tender the same time and those eyes. Not as piercing as Deans, but holy cow, it was like staring into a rainforest. Not even the scar changed anything. It just seemed to be a part of her, kind of red against the milk-white skin. He wondered shortly how he couldn’t recognize this before. He was always well aware that the Winchester kids had won the gene pool lottery, with Sam and Dean looking both like underwear models, but he never even cared to imagine that Emma was the same. The photos didn’t give her credit. But it didn’t matter, she hated him. She either ignored him completely or glared at him like a really disgusting type of fungus she’d never seen before and that she would like him better if he was a smear on the floor. Well, he did act like a dick. And there was also that tidbit that he still wanted to corner her and give her a very stern lecture about how she fucked up the Winchester family peace the past years. He was focused on his own thoughts and didn’t really follow any conversation, absent-mindedly cutting Anna’s food. That’s why he jumped a little when Emma addressed him.

“So, Castiel! What’s with the car?” Actually, everybody stopped talking when her even, steady voice pierced the air. She hadn’t even said it very loud, but the atmosphere was kind of tensed the whole evening. Nothing could kill the mood better than a passive-aggressive Emma who was stone cold sober. All eyes went from Emma to Cas who tilted his head a little in irritation. She looked at him calmly with a smile on her lips that didn’t bother to reach her eyes. Castiel Novak had an M.A. in English Literature, was formally trained by the US Army to the rank of a Specialist, worked himself up to be a Detective in the Homicide Department of the NYPD and was now the Chief of the Lawrence Police Department with over 170 officers under him. He would be damned if he would get irritated by her and managed an eloquent answer: “Huh?”

“The police car you’re driving around with.”

“What about it?” she aimed for a reply, but Dean interrupted.

“She’s cool, isn’t she? I made her, well Bobby and I made her. For a show. We wanted to make a real police car, not some over equipped Mad Max bullsh…,” his mother shot him a glare.”…stuff they usually do. Like if police officers could actually drive around in a tank or in the Batmobile. She fits all regulations, and she is sweet, I tell you. When you ride in her it’s like you glide on silk.”

“I am sure sooner or later your sister will have the pleasure,” it could have been an innocent remark or even a friendly invitation, but Cas death stare didn’t leave much room for interpretation how he meant it. All eyes ping-ponged from Cas to Emma. She swayed her glass in small circles around the table eyes still fixed on Cas’.

“We will see about that. You are a very busy man with all that missing person cases and the derelict issues recently,” she shot him a quick smile.

“These are concerns I no longer have, but I indeed worry a little that the car might get stolen,” she raised an eyebrow in silent anticipation.

“I know for a fact that there are subjects new to town with a habit of unsolicited borrowing of other people’s property.”

“That would be a shame, wouldn’t it? But I am sure these subjects would be intimidated by your swag demeanor of police authority you have a habit of insisting on.”

“I have to admit, sometimes you have to pretend to be a hardass, but this is just something I signed for when I took the place to serve, protect and generally _be there_ for the good people of Lawrence,” her eyes narrowed a little on that. She just opened her mouth to reply when John stood up slowly.

“You, you and me. Study. Now,” he walked away without so much as looking at them. Emma might be a 32-year-old, stubborn troublemaker, but she was also used to take orders, especially from her father, and that was one. She stood up without any form of protest and followed him. Cas sighed when he put his napkin down.

“I am sorry, we’ll be right back,” he murmured while he patted gently over his daughter's hair. They left a very quiet table of Christmas dinner participants behind.

“I am not sure if they were fight'n or flirt’n,” Bobby finally gruffed helping himself to another serving of sweet potato squash.

~

Cas entered the study after bracing himself for a couple of seconds. That was a stupid repartee and close on escalating. John did well to cut it. He faced the man standing on his desk massaging the bridge of his nose. Emma was on a bookshelf in the far left corner, standing close to attention. John was a tall man. Cas wasn’t small himself, neither was Emma, but John towered over them about solid 4 inches.

“What you two think you are doing?” he asked in his deep voice that held nothing but authority. Cas always was a little afraid of John Winchester. He never knew him as the bossy ex-marine that ordered around his kids, the John Winchester before the heart attack, but he could always see him behind the usually soft-spoken and friendly man. “I don’t know what happened between you two, and frankly, I don’t care, but tune it down. You,” his glare magically forced Emma to look him in the eyes. “If you need some time to cool it off, that’s fine by me. Go to your room, get on your running shoes, go to the garage and smash some things, take the BB gun and shot some cans, whatever helps. But you will not go back to that table in that mood, you hear me? And I expect you to come back to that table and behave more fucking civilized. Understood?” she muttered a very faint “Yessir” which surprised Castiel a little.

“And you,” Castiel, the confident alpha male he was, flinched on that. “As much as you are family Cas, and I mean it, what happened between her and us is not your place to judge, and sure as hell not your place to scold her in front of everybody. I’m disappointed in you for bringing stuff up that has nothing to do with the quarrels we might have now and you weren’t even there to witness. You have issues with her, I get it. But don’t make me throw you out cause you couldn’t shut up about it. Because I will do that. Understood?” Castiel heard himself saying “Yessir” as well, John Winchester had that effect. He hurried out of the room and was bright red when he got back to the table. Emma hung back, tucking her bottom lip. That was one of these moments involving somehow the confession of feelings, something no Winchester except her Mom was good at. He would’ve thrown out Cas for her. She might have started it, but Cas clearly overstepped and her father acknowledged that and did not simply pinpoint the guilt on her. John sighed and hunched a little. He opened one of his arms and made a “C’mere” gesture with his hand. The hug was brief, rigid and awkward, but it was a hug nonetheless, although both seemed relieved to step away from each other again. 27 Minutes later Emma had reacquainted herself enough with the well-kept Red Ryder BB Gun that already belonged to her Grandfather to hit every can she put on a fence unspectacular 10 yards away. Although she had to admit it wasn’t the real thing she felt some of the day’s tension and most of her anger wash away with every pling. As promised to her father she came back to the table nearly an hour after she left, still completely ignoring Castiel who was noticeable calm, but taking more part in the conversations. As soon as Emmi and Anna fell asleep in front of the television Cas and Cain took their leave. Bobby took the hint and left as well and Jess needed no excuse to go to bed complaining about her swollen feet the way up the stairs. That left the Winchesters alone in their living room watching a Christmas movie. Emma, Dean, and Sam somehow snuggled up on the couch like they used to when they were kids while John and Mary occupied the loveseat. They didn’t eat popcorn and drink Soda like they did when they were kids but had glasses of Clencraig Whiskey Emma brought from one of her trips to Europe. It was nice, it was cozy, and for the night it felt like old times.


	8. January 14th

“Uhm, hi Em, so…what are you doin’ right now?” Dean sounded weird and Emma straightened herself up from her place under the counter of the Roadhouse. She secured her phone that she had carelessly tucked between her shoulder and her ear.

“Installing the beer pump. What happened?”

“Yeah, uhm…I might have had an accident and am in the hospital now. Yeah, and Cain is in Illinois, and Mom and Dad are in Kansas City. I … they won’t let me go on my own, not unless…,” Emma rolled her eyes.

“Dean, are you asking me to pick you up and take care of you until Cain or Mom and Dad come back? If yes then just do it already, okay? I’ll be there in 30.”

“Thanks,” he muttered. She knew that slur. He was probably high on pain meds. But they allowed him to leave so it maybe wasn’t so bad, right? Ten minutes later she got in her brand new Ford pickup truck and carefully steered the red monstrosity from the mushy Roadhouse parking lot. It had snowed all week but now the temperature was going up, leaving the streets in bad condition. She found a parking space close to the entrance and made her way to the ER. A bored looking nurse sat on the counter and managed something like a greeting smile when Emma arrived. She hated hospitals. Her burn scar itched in agreement and she rolled her shoulder. The last three weeks were uneventful. She spent New Year reconnecting with some old friends, made a couple of trips to Kansas City with Lisa to stock up her closet and now owned decent clothes, (fuck you very much, Chief Novak), and she made progress in the Roadhouse. She maybe could start the living area in two or three weeks.

Dean was in a single treatment room. His chest was bandaged and he had an ugly bruise on his right cheekbone. A nurse was helping him in his plaid shirt and he winced. She let her gaze wander through the room quickly and spotted a cut Henley on the floor and a guilt oozing Gadreel on one of the visitors chairs.

“Hey,” she said leaning on the doorframe. All eyes went to her. The nurse smiled.

“You must be Emma, I get the doctor,” she hurried outside leaving Dean with the task of closing his shirt buttons. He fumbled for the better part of a minute until Emma took pity. He sighed in relief when she helped him to lie back again.

“So, what happened?” her question hang in the room. Dean made no move to answer so she drew her attention to Gadreel. He was one of the mechanics in the shop. He was a nice guy, kind of pious, married, two children. She barely had talked to him.

“One of the cars slipped from the platform and knocked him down,” he murmured.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Dean slurred. Judging by Gadreel’s guilty look it was, but Emma didn’t really care. Accidents happen. She gently petted Dean’s arm and took a better look at his face. The shallow breaths he took indicated broken ribs and she wondered if his cheekbone was broken as well, this could really hurt like a bitch.

Turned out the cheekbone wasn’t broken, but three rips were, he had a sprained wrist the Doctor put a support bandage on, and a concussion. The Doctor said he was clear to go under the premise someone stayed with him to check for neurological symptoms. They had already made a CT of his head and he showed no signs of bleedings or swellings but one never knows. Equipped with his pain meds, a wheelchair and Gadreel who she’d unceremoniously hired to help her maneuver Dean in the car and from the car in his bed (he weighed something around 190lbs after all) they left the hospital, just to run into Chief Novak hanging around her Ford 4x4. He looked concerned.

“You alright?” he asked after he briefly nodded to Gadreel and glanced at Emma.

“I feel like I’ve been hit by a car,” he joked, the chuckle drowned by a wince when he supported himself on the door of the truck. Getting inside was a chore and getting out would be a torture. Emma helped him to close the belt. Castiel tilted his head.

“I will come with you to bring him inside. Gadreel here will go to the shop. Everybody is worried sick,” Emma would have preferred it the other way around, but obviously, she had no say in it. Whatever, she glared at both and threw her hands in the air.

“Awesome,” she said sarcastically. She maybe slammed the door shut a little too forceful. Dean turned his face and looked at her with weary eyes.

“Please be nice,” her face softened while she palmed it.

“Yeah OK, let’s get you home,” the drive took longer than usual because she avoided jars that might trouble Dean, Cas’ Mustang following her. She shot him glances through the back mirror, he totally noticed. Ten minutes later they stood next to the passenger door temporarily united in the endeavor to get Dean out of the car.

“We should have gotten him in your car,” she murmured. Cas murmured an “Agreed,” in response. Carefully avoiding putting too much pressure on his right side, Cas finally nearly lifted Dean out of the truck, laid his left arm over his shoulder and together they stumbled painfully slow up the stair. Dean never was so relieved to be in his bedroom. Cas hovered above him.

“Well, you will not help me undress Cas, that’s not gonna happen. That’s what blood relatives are there for,” he groaned.

“Yeah, of course, I’ll be…I’ll be right outside,” he passed Emma with a pair of flannel sleep pants, a shirt and a sweater jacket in her hands announcing: “So, let’s see if we can get you in a shirt, otherwise the jacket will do.” It took them the better part of an hour to change Dean, including hobbling to the bath and back. Afterward, Dean was exhausted, in pain and annoyed by himself.

“Good news is,” Emma hold two pills in her left hand and a bottle of water in her right. “It’s already happy pills time. I know you don’t like it, but not only blood relatives but also painkillers are there for a reason.”

Dean took the two Oxycodone with just so much as a hint of protest.

“Can you call Cain? And someone needs to pick up Emmi in,” he looked at the alarm. “40 minutes. And I don’t have any groceries, I…what should Emmi eat. I am so sorry.”

“Dean? No. Don’t be sorry, I got this, okay? You had an accident, this is not your fault, you feel like shit, you think you disappointed someone, I’ve been there. It’s okay. Sleep a bit. I call Cain, I can pick up Emmi, I get groceries, I even ask Cas for help if you don’t trust me with Emmi,” he opened his mouth. “It’s okay, I don’t really trust me with her either, but we’ll be fine. Mom and Dad will be back in a couple of hours. Just … just sleep, okay?” she talked until the Oxys kicked in and Dean was drowsing off. She carefully covered him with a thin blanket.

“There you go, big boy.”

Cas was nowhere to be seen which was probably a good thing. Getting hold of Cain was easier said than done. After four fruitless tries, she broke her kind of recent rule not to leave important messages via voice mail.

“…so yeah, call me back as soon as you get this, but no panicking, he is fine,” she finished the call the moment Cas came back, two grocery bags in his arms. She looked at him with an irritated expression and he eyed her appraising. Obviously, they reached some kind of truce and he relaxed. With a nod, she pointed to the bags questioningly.

“There was a list on the fridge. Dean is very … organized. How is he holding up?” he started putting groceries away.

“He’ll live,” she clapped her hands. “So, there is that tiny tidbit of Emma, and me picking her up…any idea from where?” he sniggered when he shut the refrigerator door, laughing lines appeared around his eyes. She was surprised that he didn’t seem to laugh about her. He put his knuckles on the kitchen counter.

“Dean usually picks her up at 4 from Missouri’s place on Creekwood Drive, he brings her here, makes her a small snack. He or Cain or both play with her for a while, outside on the playground if the weather is nice. Then he lets her watch cartoons while he and Cain make dinner around 6. They eat. Another hour of hanging around, playing, watching cartoons, whatever is the choice of the day. Then she takes a bath, gets read a bedtime story and lights out is around 8,” he had to give her that, she didn’t flinch.

“Kind of weird you know this, details and all,” she said flatly. He shrugged.

“As I said, Dean is _very_ organized. He sends around e-Mails if he has to change something. It’s bordering obsessive-compulsive if you ask me. So you think you can handle this?” she tucked her bottom lip. Cas thought she looked cute, a thought he pushed away very quickly.

“Absolutely not,” she deadpanned. “I never took care of a small child. What does she even eat?” he twisted his mouth amused.

“What do you usually do with her? Dean said you spent a lot of time with her the last weeks,” she rubbed the back of her neck, a gesture that either made it from Dean to her or the other way around. No one knew.

“Usually? I wiggle stuff in front of her nose, color some paper sheets with her, I read lame children stories or I just carry or chase her around until someone takes her away from me. I am obviously manning her between the snack-dinner-bedtime times. That’s our thing.”

“Okay,” he knocked two times on the table. “This is what I could offer. I just go home to change quickly then I will pick up Emma and Anna because I cannot show up at Missouri’s and just leave my daughter there for another 2 hours. I come back here. You’ll be on Dean duty, I’ll be on children duty until Mary will inevitably rush in here and take over. Plan?”

“Sounds good to me,” she admitted. He said he would be back in 40 and that he would call Missouri that Emma would be picked up 20 minutes later than usual. She checked on Dean who snored peacefully and was in the middle of putting away the rest of the groceries when her phone went off with some annoying techno song from a couple of years ago. Dean had played with her phone again. She cut it off before someone could answer the question what a fox said.

“How is he, is he alright?” Cain didn’t even give her a chance to say something, like hello.

“Yeah, he is fine, bruised, couple of broken ribs, in pain, heavily drugged, but mostly fine. Tomorrow will suck, day after tomorrow probably as well, but he will be up and running in no time,” she heard the man sigh.

“What happened?”

“I’m not sure,” she was rummaging around in the fridge. “The official version of Gadreel is that a car slipped from a platform and knocked him down. I think it just slipped a bit to the side. If it would really have slipped from the platform he would have ended up under the car and we would have a totally different conversation now. Hey, what does Emmi eat as an afternoon snack?” there was a moment of silence and Emma repeated her own words in her head. Well, she might have been a bit insensitive here.

“We need to talk about your bedside manners, Winchester,” she could practically hear him rubbing the little bridge between his eyes. “I’m just glad he’s fine. Fruits, usually, apples or bananas, and a small glass of milk. She needs the sugar or she gets cranky. I will catch the first flight I can. He will hate it that I interrupt my trip, but I don’t care. So maybe I will be back tonight or tomorrow morning. You’re alone?”

“Nope, Castiel figured that I am more qualified to deal with bruises and concussions and he is more qualified to deal with the children and so we share the work. He is picking up the munchkin as we speak,” another moment of silence greeted her.

“Good, that’s good, I guess. You think you guys will get along?” his voice was hesitant. She took an apple and a slightly brown banana out of the fruit basket and opened drawers aimlessly searching for knives and plates.

“We didn’t stab each other although we were in the same space for two hours, so knock on wood. We’ll be good. I promised to play nice, and after Dad’s speech, he will play nice as well. At least as long as the kids are around. When they’re gone I can’t guarantee for nothing.”

“Yeah, alright. Uhm, I gotta go, check out and go to the airport. If I’m not on a plane I will call around 8 to talk to Emmi and maybe Dean if he’s awake. Please be nice, ok?”

“People keep asking me that. Get home safe, all right?”

~

Playing house with Castiel turned out to be utterly unexciting. While Emma dressed and undressed her favorite doll (which displayed impressive fine-motor skills for a 2-year-old, but Aunt Emma might be biased) Castiel helped Anna with her homework. Emma couldn’t quite understand why preschoolers got homework, but she was no expert. She hadn’t understood why she got homework in high school neither. Her cooking skills were limited, but she could do pasta with tomato sauce, even out of fresh tomatoes. While Castiel took the children for a walk, because obviously, that is what you do with children, she prepared dinner. She also prepared some tomato-rice soup for Dean.

“Mom always did this when we were sick,” he smiled biting in a cracker. “I mean it’s from a can, but still.”

“Well, you are qualified as sick, right? Cain is coming home. He texted me he will be in a plane by 9, but he will call earlier. So try to stay awake, okay? How’s the pain?”

“Not so bad, actually, I feel weird though. Somehow…wobbly.”

“That’s the Oxys. You are supposed to get another dose around 10, but if you can handle the pain some ibuprofen might do the trick.”

“I like the sound of that, actually. I’m bored. Can I have Emmi after dinner? I read to her or we just snuggle up watching T.V.,” she smiled softly.

“Sure thing, you don’t need to ask for permission. Emmi is anxious to see you. She knows Daddy is kind of sick and was sleeping and that Papa will come home early to make it all better. It’s adorable, actually. It’s so domestic,” she chuckled.

“And again the jokes about my apple pie life.”

“I solemnly swear I am not making fun of you. First, you and Cain are the coolest real housewives of Lawrence of all. I mean come on! You restore cars, he writes these books no one understands but everybody talks about. You got the money and the looks. All the boys want either be you or be with you. And second, this is pride. I am proud of you. Proud enough to stop calling you little brother. It’s decided. How you manage,” she gestured in the air. “This is amazing, and I don’t mean how you handling the stress, I mean how organized, but relaxed you are and… by all means, I don’t have words, grown up. And Emmi? She adores you and Cain, and you are such great parents,” she stopped because he stared at her wide-eyed and with more water in them, he would admit. She rolled her shoulder. “Don’t give me the puppy stare. I mean it. Let’s face it: Dad was a horrible father, and Mom wasn’t doin’ great on her own either, and Ellen and Bobby meant well, but they had no idea. But somehow, God knows how, Sam turned out okay, a little too much kale hipster for my taste, but who am I to judge, but you, you turned out great.”

“You are not so bad either,” he murmured.

“Yeah, we see about that. Eat up,” she slapped his thigh (carefully) and fumbled for her phone that was ringing with a Justin Bieber song right now. She gave Dean a scolding look through her lashes.

“I hate you … Hey Dad.”

“You hate me? I ain’t done anything.”

“I don’t hate you, I hate Dean. He is screwing with my stuff…again. So what’s up? You guys are on your way?”

“That’s why I call. No. The fuel pump broke. I have to replace it. It’s customized. I can either ask Ash to bring it by tonight or let him send it via express to our hotel by tomorrow. Your call.”

“You of all people have a broken fuel pump. Why is it my call?”

“Well, Mary said she would take over, and we wondered if you maybe have some plans for the night…” she rolled her eyes and interrupted him.

“You think I wouldn’t skip goin’ to the movies because my brother and my niece need me,” she asked so flatly it wasn’t even a question. There was a moment of silence.

“That’s not what I meant and you know that.”

“Yeah, sure you don’t.”

“Look, I’m sorry. But this is really not what I meant. You don’t have experience in this kind of things, and that’s okay, you’ll learn. But handling an energetic two-year-old and an invalid can become really overwhelming really quick and if you rather need help just say it. I can call Ash, he can take your mother back to Lawrence by within two hours, and I replace the pump and join you later or you are okay and your Mother and I come tomorrow.”

“Alright, I get it. We’re fine here. You don’t have to come today. Cain’s coming home soon anyway and Cas is helping me with Emma. So everything’s fine.”

“Cas as in Castiel?” her father asked with some kind of disbelieve in his voice.

“Uhm, yes. How many Cases do you know?”

“Well there is Cassidy Turner, he works in this hardware store left of Hinkley’s …”

“Dad I swear, talking to you gets weirder by the minute. You wanna speak to Dean?”

While Dean and her father talked she put his bowl in the dishwasher and stared thoughtfully out of the back window into Dean and Cain’s backyard. Emma tucked her bottom lip. Everything was so different from when she left. Before they moved to the house which was a dumb held together by termites at this point they’d lived in an even worse dumb over a laundromat held together by their collective wishful thinking. Sam didn’t even remember that place. Dad was either away or drunk. If he wasn’t, which happened from time to time, by accident Emma supposed, he was a hardass, especially to Dean whom he treated like he was just a sorry excuse for a son. The moment he realized that Emma was a girl he lost interest in her completely. Mom wasn’t much better. She tried, God knows she tried, but three kids and a deadbeat husband paid their toll. She was always tired, tried to stand upright for just another day, and then one more, holding everything together. She never helped with the homework or went to one of their games. She didn’t know shit about problems in school, in their teenage love life (which Dean especially had plenty) or with other kids. She was there but she wasn’t, too busy with jobs and household chores. Emma had to admit that getting into trouble just for shits and giggles might have been her way of screaming for attention, stereotype or not. When Dad finally stopped drinking for good it didn’t change much of his personality. He might acknowledge his kid's existence a little more but he still was an asshole. It broke her heart to watch Dean basically throwing himself at the man, although she had to give Dad that he reacted nice enough when Dean came out. When Dean dropped school she stopped talking to him. It was maybe the cruelest thing she had ever done. He only needed 4 more months. But Dad said he could use his help and they needed the money. She still wasn’t talking to him when she ran off to the army only two weeks after her high school graduation. She had perfect SAT’s, so would have Dean. She sent all her money home. When the garage brought stable income, she started saving. Dean’s first restored car was a 1959 Facal Vera HK500 that won a price on the Kansas City Auto Show. Dean had spent roughly 12,000 dollars and put 1,500 hours of work in it and sold it for 175,000 dollars to a very interested party that thanked him for the cheap offer by investing another 500,000 dollars into his business. Money couldn’t buy happiness, but if you don’t have to rely on two jobs and a 16-hour workday just to keep the lights in the fridge on some of your sorrows mysteriously disappear and you discover all the strange things you heard other people talk about, like taking care of yourself and others. Now she couldn’t turn around without running into her mother offering her food, or even stranger, talks. Her Dad let Emmi ride on his legs. He laughed and smiled suspiciously often. Dean had a playhouse for his daughter in his garden that he built out of car pieces himself and he read her a bedtime story every night. They had family barbecues. Her father and Dean played golf with the Mayor. The Chief of Police was Dean’s best friend and currently spinning around Anna in the garden with Emmi on his shoulders. Emmi was laughing and holding herself by grabbing his hair. It was probably soft and velvety.

“You need to get laid, Winchester,” she murmured to herself letting the pasta fall into a bowl of boiling water.

~

 “Are you checking on me?” she asked with a cocky tone when she let Cas into Deans house. She wore one of Dean’s shirts since Emmi kind of drowned her and the bathroom and half of the first floor during her bath. Dean laughed so hard he had to take another Oxy. After dinner, Cas had left and Emmi, Dean, and Emma had watched some episodes of a weird pony show that obviously was created by crazies on LSD. They had facetime with Cain while Emma cleaned up the kitchen and then the bathroom incident happened. Getting Emmi to sleep turned out to be another endeavor. She had to read the same story four times because she had made the mistake to read it with changing voices the first place and Emmi just loved it. Dean had said that she probably had to come to read every night from now on. Now everybody except her was asleep and she watched some Netflix when Cas had knocked.

“Absolutely,” he lifted a sixpack. “No alcohol in the Winchester-Mullen household, but a day that requires alcohol. I am just doing the Christian thing here,” she shrugged.

“I never say no to free beer. Is it okay for you to let Anna alone in that house?” he lifted a monitor

“If she wakes up, I’ll be the first to know and I am not ashamed to admit that I misuse property of the Lawrence Kansas Police Department,” she shrugged.

“I won’t tell anybody,” she let herself fall on the sofa and he sat on the opposite side.

“The Americans?” he asked.

“Yeah, makes me want to be a KGB agent in the 80s, I would have stealthed the shit out of every operation.”

“I bet. You and Dean are pretty much alike.”

“Nah, he would be a terrible agent. He would be super sassy all the time and probably tell somebody he is with the KGB just for the fun of it.”

“I mean what you just said is something Dean would have said.”

“Yeah, we are twins, forget? I taught him all the lines,” she sipped her beer. They sit in silence for a while.

“I think I owe you an apology,” he began. She had the grace not say something feisty. “I might have misjudged in advance and I was being....” he trailed off.

“A douche?” she offered. He laughed.

“I was aiming for dick. I always imagined you differently. I don’t know. That you don’t care, that you are kind of cold.”

“And a criminal,” she deadpanned.

“And there is that. I shouldn’t have read your record,” he gave her an apologetic look and she locked eyes with him. She gave him a mock frown.

“You shouldn’t have, haven’t you? That was probably illegal,” she talked to her beer and the T.V. screen.

“Actually it’s not. You can do it online. All you need is a name and the State. I couldn’t get yours, though. I had to do it the old-fashioned way.”

“I admire the effort. That was probably the government. There might be a price on your head now.”

“Whatever you say, Mrs. Black Ops. Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.”

“Never heard this one before, can I?” she made a Go-ahead gesture.

“Why’d you do it?”

“The petty offenses?”

“Join the Army,” they locked eyes again. He searched for anger or annoyance, but there was nothing, maybe some tiredness. She huffed.

“That’s complicated.”

“That’s a lazy answer.”

“Why’d you do it?” he said nothing for a long time.

“I thought it was the right thing to do after 9/11. I still don’t regret it, could’ve gone better.”

“Yeah,” she opened the second bottle and offered it to him. “Friendly fire always sucks.”

“Any experience in that?”

“Nah, I might have had the one or another friendly fist in my face, that’s all,” after that they traded military stories, although Cas’ noticed that she was keeping things from him, mostly the When’s, Where’s and Why’s. They drank their third beer and watched another episode of The Americans. When Cas went home he took all the bottles with him. No alcohol in the house, Dean’s main rule (except the two ridiculous car rules that had forced her to hear the Black Album for 7 hours straight once). Emma got it. Dad used to drink solely at home.

~

The T.V. was asking if she was still watching The Americans and she was half sprawled in the corner of the couch and on the coffee table in a mocking I-am-a-trained-soldier-I-can-sleep-wherever-I-want position. Cain looked down on her with a tired smile half attempted to let her sleep in that awkward position until Emmi would hop around on the couch in 3 hours giving her a jump scare and hopefully some kinks in her back. She had put an image of Dean smashed by a classic sports car in his head a couple of hours ago after all.

“I am awake,” she muttered. “I’ll just, let me just…what time is it?” she yawned while getting into a sitting position with her elbows on her knees relaxing her back. She snapped up and rolled her shoulders looking up at him through her lashes.

“Your resemblance with Dean is sometimes quite remarkable,” she chuckled.

“Yeah, Mr. Fancy-Talking at,” she eyed the clock on the Sat receiver. “4 in the morning. I take it as a compliment. Your daughter is an ass and fell asleep at 9:30 after I read her “Five Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed” 4 times. I tell you, its 32 pages of fun. And Dean’s out like a light because I might add an Ambien to his Oxycodone. Dr. Piscinski or Paszesky”

“Pallasky.”

“At least I kinda narrowed it down to the general geographic region. Well, whatever, he said its okay, I just didn’t share that with Dean, he wouldn’t have taken it. But Oxys don’t help you sleep and his pain is taking the lift up to its peak at the moment. So don’t sue me.”

“I won’t, I actually believe you are more than qualified to judge Dean’s level of pain. He would rather lie than to admit it,” she grabbed her sweater jacket. Somehow between walking Cas out and falling asleep on the couch, she had changed from Deans shirt in her own clothes again. Dean was kind of particular to his hair rock shirts, obviously, they were collector items.

“Okay, I’m heading home.”

“No, you won’t. We have a perfectly functional guest room we never use and I would love to make you breakfast as a little thank you, come on!” she wasn’t even protesting.


	9. January 24th

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” she jerked upright like a jackknife and slammed her head into something massive and rock hard that groaned even louder than she did.

“What the fuck, Sam!” she squealed.

“Ouw”, Sam was holding his forehead.

“What the actual fuck. What are you doin’ here?” she swung her legs over the bed and stared at Sam annoyed.

“It’s your birthday,” he was aiming for puppy eyes, but he stilled grimaced and landed by crazy.

“No, I mean what are you doin’ _here_ , in Kansas. Isn’t Jess like poppin’ any minute now?”

“She still has 3 weeks, and the Moore’s are with her. I figured it’s a great time to come for visiting my big sister and brother for two or three days. I mean before the baby comes.”

“You wanna let it crack one last time, huh? Good luck with that. Dean’s an invalid, and I don’t know anybody here. The plan for this epic 33rd twin reunion birthday party is hanging out, watching movies and drinking beer. Maybe a winter barbecue and, oh, I forgot: board games. Charlie is coming, and I really don’t like her, so I’m being the asshole I am and invited Lisa. It’s high school all over again, the popular kids versus the nerds, with the exception that Dean’s a nerd now. So with you in the mix the popular kids are outnumbered two to one,” she tucked her bottom lips and beamed at him. She sat down again the wall, pulling her not so little little brother in a one arm hug/headlock.

“Good to see you Samsquatch.”

“Why you don’t like Charlie, everybody likes Charlie, she is like the nicest person in the world,” he tried to unfetter himself from her grip but wasn’t able to until she released him. She got out of the bed.

“Exactly, she is so nice, it unnerves me. A lot. And she calls everybody a bitch like some wannabe gangster from the 90’s, she punches too hard in the upper arm to greet you and just because she knows a little Python and C++ she thinks she’s fucking Kevin Mitnick. She had hacked herself into the school computer once, but only because Mrs. Vasyak had like password1 as a password _and_ she got caught.”

“You are still pissed she spoiled you Harry Potter,” she glared at him which was answer enough. It had been a little over six years ago. Emma was on an actual vacation, coming from some sun days from a Hawaiian beach, dropping by a week or two to catch up with everybody until duty called again. They had a barbecue, a couple of friends around, no Cas or Cain in the picture, but soon the whole gang of usual suspects. And Charlie had told everybody about the new Harry Potter flick. These kinds of movies weren’t what the Army showed their troops and frankly, Emma didn’t care much about them, but she was only halfway through the books. She pretty clearly expressed herself that she didn’t want to get spoiled when Charlie blurred out that Dumbledore was killed by Snape, thank you very fucking much. The whole mess ended in a 20 minute yelling match with Charlie carelessly asking if she lived under a stone somewhere that she didn’t know this already and Emma very sarcastically stating that she was too busy shooting terrorist skulls into pieces in No-Rain-Country for real so that Charlie could have the freedom pretending to do so on her XBOX. Although this was pretty much a bit over the top patriotism for Emma it effectively crushed the mood and Dean had to send Charlie home because he kind of agreed with his sister.

“She disrespected me,” he rolled his eyes.

“No she didn’t, she was just careless. You didn’t give away the broken girl soldier thing and we kept forgetting what you do for a living, is all,” she eyed him warily.

“The broken girl soldier thing? Jeez, what is that exactly?” Sam made a vague gesture.

“Yeah you know, anxiety attacks, staring into nothingness, mumbling stuff about the war? PTSD?” his voice pitched a little higher. Now she rolled her eyes.

“First, you have no idea how PTSD works, second, I don’t have PTSD, third, I will not comment on that and we never had that conversation,” He made a bitch face just for a second and Emma was sure he was going to argue. Sam was the only one in his family who wanted to _know_ how she was feeling, always was. He somehow believed she needed some kind of counseling, an open ear to listen to her pouring her heart out about all the terrible things she had seen and done. She knew that Sam, the old hippie he was, did not particularly approve with the military runs of the U.S. Armed Forces and their procedures and that he somehow assumed she was broken and needed to be fixed. Hell, probably all Winchesters, extended and by blood, thought that. Truth was she was not. She always was strangely unattached but what she had to do. Yes, fair enough, she sometimes felt unsettlement and restlessness when she wasn’t in control of situations, and yes, she sometimes had the urge to physically harm someone, but what she did, actually did in the field never came back to her. Sam let it go and palmed his face.

“Yeah, okay, sorry. So, Mom’s making pancakes and vanilla hash browns, wanna come?”

“Hell yeah, it’s my birthday.”

~

“Look at this, fuel for me and for my baby,” Dean was lifting up Emma’s present, wrapped in newspaper sheets: a bottle of motor oil and some candy bars. “These are awesome, thanks Em.” He was hugging his sister who herself was blessed with shaving cream and some cheap porn magazines. The presents were from the Gas’n’Sip down the street. On their 19th birthday, Dean had taken Bobbie's truck and drove the 100 miles to Fort Riley to hang out in front of the Army Base until some military guy took pity and let Emma walk and talk to her brother. They ended up in a Gas’n’Sip, drinking horrible coffee and at the end buying each other some stupid shit from the shop. It was the first time they talked since Dean dropped school and Emma joined the Army. More than a year of radio silence between the twins that were basically conjoined their whole life. A tradition was born though. Mary rolled her eyes on the magazines and Bobby snatched them out of Emma’s hand dramatically: “I’m gonna confiscate that, kid,” he announced followed by a couple of “Gross” and “Come on old man” and “TMI”. Dean was still moving stiff and slowly, it was just 10 days after his accident. He couldn’t bend over, he couldn’t lift anything and with his sprained wrist he couldn’t even do office work very well. So he was complaining about being useless and bored. Emma knew that he secretly was enjoying Cain fuzzing over him. There was a knock on the back door and Cas was standing there, grinning all over the face. In the last 10 days, Emma had talked to him more often. They had met on a jogging route twice (Emma wasn’t jogging though, she was running), he had checked on her at the Roadhouse once and they went to the playground together when Cain was out of town and Dean felt like shit, but Emmi needed to head outside or she was going to get cabin fever. She figured why Dean liked him, and especially when he was in uniform, like now, she indeed liked him, too. Cas held a plate covered with tin foil.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt. I just want to leave some birthday wishes for the birthday boy and girl. Anna and I were making brownies as a little present. It’s no pie, sorry Dean,” he placed the plate on the table and pulled Dean in a hug that could have been manly and between bros if he wouldn’t have been so careful not to crush Dean’s sore ribcage. Suddenly Emma was hugged, too. She knew that people did this, hugging other people they weren’t supposed to hug on occasions like this. She had her fair share of hugs by near strangers over the years, but she still was surprised. She also was surprised when she felt her body melt into the hug and leaning onto Castiel's slim and quite firm form. She was not the only one in the room startled by the surprise affection and when Cas finally withdraw from the hug that was just a titsy bit too long to be socially appropriate he looked into the round, shrugged and asked “What?” nonchalantly.

“Good to see you two are bonding,” Dean said smug earning rolled eyes by Cas as a response.

“Yeah, nice, is it not? Okay, I have to go. I am on call this night so I am coming, but I won’t stay long, sorry,” Dean made a disappointed face.

“You’re the boss. Can you not just make someone else be on call?” Cas gave him a rigorous look.

“I am also a role model and one of the protruding members of this community, I cannot do what I want whenever it pleases me,” Emma lifted her mug.

“Spoken like a true protruding member of this community, Chief. I drink to that,” she snickered. He gave her a mock frown.

“You making fun of me, citizen?”

“Never would, you are my role model,” now everybody on the table chuckled and Cas excessively cleared his throat.

“You are impossible, all of you,” he zipped his bulky brown jacket. “Eat the brownies, I opened the cake mix myself.”

~

Emma and Lisa were sitting on the hood of the Impala in the backyard, smoking. Well, neither of them smoked, but this wasn’t a cigarette.

“Look at us, 33 years old, respectable business owner the both of us, one a single parent with an honor student as a son, the other a Medal of Honor recipient, sitting in the backyard like old times, pretending to be 16 again,” Lisa shrugged. “Where did you get it anyway, I can’t imagine you sneaking behind the bleachers buying pot from weird Andy Gallagher.”

“Andy Gallagher is a Tax Accountant now.”

“So you sneak into his office buying pot,” Emma sniggered at the thought.

“Nope, I confiscated this from Ben,” Emma gave her an appraising look.

“Aw, just like his Mommy,” Lisa punched her in the arm.

“He said it wasn’t his, though. He was just keeping it, for a friend,” there was a moment of silence and then both burst out in laughter. Lisa and Emma had needed some air after a discussion about Game of Thrones had gotten a little too loud and geeky for their taste. Lisa and Emma liked GoT just like the next guy, but no reason to start throwing stuff around and call each other names. Barbecue and beer and a Star Wars movie had been nice enough, but somewhere you had to draw the line.

“Grounded him for a month.”

“This is awesome parenting, I am impressed. When Bobby caught me with a Joint once he made me overhaul the tractor of his on my own. I mean I punished-repaired that pile of rust more often I could count, but this weekend? Most fucked up of my life. He didn’t tell Dad though,” she took her last drag and offered the last bit to Lisa. The smoke was scratching her throat.

“I was always a little scared of your Dad, I guess I still am,” Lisa threw the butt on the ground.

“You and me both.”

“Ladies!” Castiel's voice startled them. He walked into her field of view and looked at them attentively. “Enjoying the fresh air?” his tone was neutral, but Emma swore she saw laughter in his eyes. He smelled the pot and was having a field day. Lisa saw that, too.

“Sure, nothing goes over the smell of a crisp Kansas night. Looking sharp today, Chief Novak,” Lisa said. Both beamed at him. He managed to frown.

“Thank you, Ms. Breaden. So what are you two ladies up to tonight?”

“You know, Chief, same old. Talking, mostly, about girls stuff. Dresses, makeup, maxi pads. Why are you lurking around in other people’s backyard,” Emma smirked.

“I thought I heard suspicious noises. So, how is the party so far?”

“Dean saved you a burger, and obviously not everybody agrees that Sansa Stark is a likable character. Little, green houses were thrown around, it was crazy,” Castiel gave Emma an intense stare. There was a bit of sincere sorrow in his eyes.

“Are you alright? Because you are making no sense,” he finally deadpanned.

“Charlie, Dean, Sam, and Gilda argued about Game of Thrones while we tried to play Monopoly. Six people playing a game that work the best for four? The mood was heated already, things got out of control. I was close to calling you,” Emma smiled. Cas snickered.

“Alright, I go in there, eat that burger before you two get a binge. And if I see any of you driving tonight I will arrest you,” he raised his index finger and pointed it first into Emma’s then into Lisa’s face. “Especially you, Lisa.”

“Fair enough. I’ll take a cab” she replied. He nodded and raised an eyebrow.

“Great, good night. Take care,” he went inside with two pairs of eyes on his back, well his ass actually. Lisa chuckled.

“That was awkward. He’s hot, though.”

“Yeah, he kind of is. That uniform. And not as much of an asshole I previously thought.”

“Dean tried to set us up once, like two years ago. He was charming, but we annoyed the shit out of each other. Pity, he probably would have been great with Ben,” Lisa pulled her coat closer to her. Emma looked at her thoughtful.

“Yeah, he probably would. Sorry, it didn’t work out,” and Emma, weird enough, meant it. Lisa was a nice woman, maybe a bit trashy, but kind, friendly, warm-hearted, a great mother, and she deserved someone like that, someone like Cas. _Where was that coming from?_

“Rumors are you and the Chief are a thing. You know, people talk,” Lisa said softly after a short break. Emma raised an eyebrow.

“People?” she scoffed. “What do you mean by people?”

“Yeah, you know…townsfolk,” she made a vague gesture.

“Townsfolk, where did they talk about it, in the mob shop while stocking up on flares and pitchforks?”

“Becky Rosen said you are hanging out on the playground and that you are jogging together.”

“He’s also currently in the same house my bed is, we’re getting married next week,” Emma said with a serious face. “You gotta love Becky Rosen. We are not, a thing, I mean. Two weeks ago I wanted to let his body disappear. No one would’ve found it. And now he is baking me brownies and giving me hugs, and I kind of like it. I’m mostly confused,” she turned to Lisa and was greeted by a huge grin. 

“I knew it,” she said triumphantly.

“Knew what?”

“You got the hots for Officer Friendly,” she sing-songed. Emma shot her a look.  “That’s good. It’s good. He is a great guy with a huge stick in his ass, but great,” Emma chuckled. “and he has a daughter and you have no idea about children.”

“Wow, don’t sugarcoat it.”

“But…but…I think he likes you, too.”

“It’s a start, isn’t it? Come on Lis, let’s stop talking about this. It makes me feel sad and girly…ish.”

“You are a girl, embrace it.”

“Should I get a fake tan and very white teeth now? Lisa, you have very white teeth and a very fake tan.”

“Fuck you, Winchester” but Lisa laughed. They sat for another hour in an amicable company. Lisa was good people. Emma called her a cab because somehow Lisa was wasted. Everybody was asleep in the house. Cain had picked up Dean, Sam was in his old room and Charlie and Gilda were in the guestroom, formerly Dean’s room. She could hear her father snore. Soon she would live in the Roadhouse. The living area was a go since yesterday. She would miss this place, snoring parents, annoying nerd friends, drunk little brothers, and confusing hot neighbors aside. She would miss it.  


	10. March 17th

“You have any experience in waiting tables?” she asked in an impatient voice.

  
“Have you any experience in running a restaurant and bar?” his voice was slow, kind of slurry and a handful of egotistical.

  
“Touché,” Emma replied, leaning back. She crossed her hands above her tummy. “You already know that I cannot hire you, Ash?”

  
“Why not?”

  
She leaned forward, rubbing her hands together.

  
“First, you have a job. A good one you are actually good at. And I bet Dean is paying you probably more than the minimum wage. Second. I grew up here and I grew up with you falling asleep dead drunk on the pool tables and I will not have that. Get out of here.”

  
“That happened once, maybe twice.”

  
“That happened like every Friday and Saturday,” she deadpanned. “Get out of my restaurant, I mean it!”

  
Ash tsked and got up. He nearly ran into Jody Mills.

  
“You called the Cops already, Ms. We? You are no fun,” he grinned and strolled out of the Roadhouse.

  
Emma got up from where she was sitting and put the chairs back on the table.

  
“Officer Mills, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

The tall, dark-haired woman in her crisp uniform positioned herself in the middle of the room, both hands on her utility belt. Emma knew this posture, she did something like that hundreds of times herself. Being a female in a field dominated by men always meant putting a little extra effort in your display of authority.

  
“The Chief wants me to check out if everything is in order for the grand opening in two days. Liquor license, health department certificate, the shotgun under your counter, the usual,” her voice was professional. Emma went behind the bar, rolling her eyes when she turned her back on the woman.

  
“Yeah yeah,” she pulled a folder from a drawer of the desk with the cashier and placed in on the counter. Jody Mills began flipping through the pages all neatly tucked away in sheet protectors. Military precision drilled in for 14 years paid off sometimes. Emma pointed behind her back with her thumb.

  
“Liquor license’s on the wall for everyone to see, just like the Kansas Department of Revenue demands and I don’t have a gun under my counter. I can totally tap you a beverage, now, I’m entitled,” she grinned. Officer Mills stared at her with an arched eyebrow.

  
“I’m on duty,” she finally deadpanned.

  
“I have a mean root beer,” Emma offered, tucking her bottom lip. “Do we have a problem here, Officer? I feel a little tension between us?”

  
“So where are they?” Officer Mills asked ignoring the question.

  
“Where are what?” Emma was genuinely confused.

  
“The M9 Baretta, the M39 Enhanced Marksman Rifle and the M590 12 Gauge pump-action that are registered on your name. Some pretty heavy armory you have there, by the way,” Emma sighed. Shotgun under the counter was not a figure of speech.

  
“So this is what this is about. Chief is no fan of big guns?”

  
“He is no fan of big guns in the hand of civilians, and you are a civilian now,” she gave Emma a look. “What do you need military grade weapons anyway?”

  
“Pigeon hunting.”

  
“Don’t sass me, Winchester!” Emma rolled her shoulder and gave the Officer an apologetic look.

  
“I use the rifle on the shooting range to stay sharp. I’m a pretty good shot. The shotgun is a token of nostalgia, believe it or not. I actually haven’t used it for a while, now. And the Baretta was my handgun in the military. I had a Glock 19, too. Maybe you can relate, but I always thought that the bigger handguns are easier to handle,” she pulled a keychain out of her pocket. She headed to the back entrance making a follow me gesture to Officer Mills. She led the policewoman to a little brick building next to the Roadhouse and unlocked the door. It was little depository where she kept maintenance stuff for the restaurant. A grey gun locker with a combination lock stood in one corner. She opened it. A wave of gun oil smell flushed through the small room. All three weapons were there, neatly maintained, the Baretta partly dismantled. Emma opened the door of a little wall cupboard.

  
“Here are the shells and bullets. Look, I don’t need to tell you that the gun laws in Kansas are pretty lax. I could have them not registered and would get away with it, but I did. I even got a carry permit for the Baretta, although I never carry it. So are we done here?” The Officer nodded curtly, obviously satisfied with what she saw. Emma walked her to her car. Before Officer Mills got in she turned to Emma, one hand on the roof of the car.

  
“You know, you were my first arrest,” she said. “18 years ago. You and that friend of yours, the woman that owns this Yoga center.”

  
“Lisa Breaden,” Emma helped her out.

  
“You broke into the swimming pool in high school and smoked pot with your feet in the water. You didn’t even try to run away, two professional collars,” Emma smiled a little private smile.

  
“I remember that. Well, you weren’t the first cop who arrested me, but you were the first who read me my rights. Chief Turner usually just put us in the back of his car and let us stew there for a while handing us to our parents, but you put us in a holding cell. I was a little impressed by that,” Officer Mills scoffed.

  
“Not enough to stay out of trouble.”

  
“Yeah, I was a troubled kid I guess,” Emma rubbed the back of her neck.

  
“Good to see you all grown up,” she got in her car. “Have a nice day, and stay out of trouble.”

  
Emma watched the car leaving her parking lot. She took her phone out of her pocket. A sign reading “Grand Re-Opening on Saturday 19th” hung above the entrance of the Roadhouse. Everything was ready to go. Tomorrow her two new cooks Aaron and Garth would test the kitchen and her two waiters Madison and Eli would come over so she could plan the opening with them. She hit the dial button.

  
“Chief Castiel Novak?” she always wondered why he used his full name to introduce himself on the phone.

  
“When you are so worried about me and my arsenal why don’t you come to check it out yourself,” she hadn’t meant to sound so pissed, but actually she was. He still didn’t trust her, something that upset her more than she would admit. She could hear him sigh.

  
“I’m not worried about you having an arsenal; I’m just generally concerned when I hear that anybody who isn’t police owns that much firepower. You have some serious guns there. And actually, I didn’t want you to think that it was me, to avoid exactly this conversation,” he mumbled. Emma scoffed.

  
“Well, that worked out brilliantly. You know what bothers me the most? That you send a Cop to check them out, nosing around in my stuff and making me feel that you think I am planning something non-legit, instead of simply asking me. I registered them for a reason, it’s no secret,” she realized that her tone was very defensive, she didn’t like it. There was a pause on the other side of the line. Then he sighed again.

  
“You are right, sorry. I am sorry, okay? I just wanted to know if …” he trailed off. She sat on a bench next to the entrance and leaned her head against the wall.

  
“You wanted to know if it is safe or if I let lie around semi-automatic handguns with enough bullets in the magazine to wipe out a Sunday school class, because…reasons,” the silence on the Cas’ side was answer enough. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I gotta go, bye.”

  
“Emma, wait,” she hung up before he could go one. She actually had thought they had gotten over that shit. She wasn’t that girl anymore. She had no intention to get drunk behind the bleachers, B&E into public buildings or steal police cars. She wondered what else she had to do to convince that thickheaded ass that she was a responsible adult now and not the 16-year-old rebel-without-a-cause he only read about in police records.

  
“I don’t even know why this is so important to me,” she said to the orange cat that was curled under the bench. The cat came with the Roadhouse, so it was probably hers now, too. She had named him Agent Orange, a joke actually no one laughed about. She found it funny, though. Mary had called her a cynic. She stood up and went inside and upstairs, letting her fall on the sofa. She really liked her new home. She had brick stone walls and a dark hardwood floor giving the open apartment the flair and the chic of a city loft. Her kitchen was relatively small (she had an industrial sized one downstairs after all) with a counter and three barstools to sit on. The fitting was dark blue with white trimming. Charlie said it kind of looked like the Tardis, and actually Emma agreed with her. The table in the bright dining area was big enough for 6 persons. She had transferred the kitchen color scheme to the living area. The couch was overstuffed but comfy, and she had an armchair, just because she always wanted one. She actually sat in it when she read and was laughing at herself when doing so. The bookshelves were still half empty, but she lived here for just three weeks. There was enough time in the future to stock up on belletristic. She had a nice bathroom with both, a shower and a bathtub on the left side of the open living-cooking-dining area and two bedrooms, her master bedroom and a little guest room, on the right. She had replaced the windows, which were now big and open letting in enough light to nearly calling the place a studio, the total opposite to the old windows with their dark, thick frames that were more cross window and wood than glass. She heard the rumble of a car which wasn’t quite as loud as the Impala or screechy as her Dad’s Chevelle so it meant a certain pimped Mustang.

  
“Yeah, just great, now you are showing up,” she murmured.

  
“Emma? Are you there?” she could hear Cas entering the seating area and heading up the stairs. At least he knocked.

  
“Emma? Can I come in?” she sighed dramatically and pushed herself from the sofa. She wandered the short distance to the kitchen and pulled two mugs out of a closet. She flipped the switch of her coffee machine, a nice pro piece she purchased when she went industrial-sized kitchen shopping.

  
“Emma?” he knocked again, louder, more insistent. She looked at the ceiling and took a breath.

  
“Come on in!” she sing-songed. Cas opened the door carefully facing her leaning against the counter. She lifted her arms.

  
“Better frisk me, I could carry a gun,” he rolled his eyes. He stopped in the middle of the room and let his shoulder slump, a little gesture of defeat that sent a buzz of satisfaction through her.

  
“Okay, you are right. The permits landed on my desk yesterday together with your state license and I might have gotten the idea in my head that you keep a pump-action shotgun the size of Texas under your driver seat and a Baretta under your pillow, alright?”

  
“You actually think I would do that? I am trained at these guns. I know what they can do. I have a hole in my thigh proving what they can do. Why should I let them lie around?” Cas looked at her with sudden horror.

  
“You’ve been shot? When?” she scoffed.

  
“Are you for real right now? Not on a hunting trip,” he let his hand run through his hair.

  
“Of course, sorry. I don’t know why you should do that, I just thought you did. I don’t even know why. I should just have asked you. Just come over and say hey, do you have a locker for the three guns of yours? Or even better, just assume you have a locker because you know what you are doing. You are probably more qualified in handling these guns than anybody else in this town,” he sat down on the couch and put his elbows on his knees. _If he puts his face in his hands I will punch him in the ear._ She filled the mugs and sat next to him, offering one to him. He took it hesitantly.

  
“Thanks,” he muttered.

  
“Let’s not get overdramatic here, it’s fine. You shouldn’t have thought that, but you did. You should’ve asked yourself, but you didn’t. I’ll get over it, no harm done. We’re good,” he looked at her.

  
“No, we’re not. You still think that, I don’t know, that I don’t trust you or something, or that you are an irresponsible person, but that’s not true, okay?” she frowned at him.

  
“Okay. So what is it then?” For a while he said nothing. It could have been nice the two of them sitting next to each other looking into each other’s eyes. They were some serious flirting going on the last two months, but also some serious fighting.

  
“I guess I was worried about you,” he finally said. She made an unconvinced face.

  
“And how does being worried about me lead to the sudden urge to check out my weapon situation?”

  
“That’s complicated,” he said after a while copying her line from the night in Dean’s house 9 weeks ago.

  
“That’s a lazy answer,” she did the same. A smirk appeared on his face.

  
“I was 4 months in Afghanistan, you know that?” she raised an eyebrow.

  
“No, Dean made it sound like you got shot while getting off the plane,” he sniggered.

  
“Well it’s true, I’ve been shot by my friend during weapon training, but I was there 4 months already.”

  
“I think I know where this is heading,” she said. Been there, done that.

  
“I slept with a gun under my pillow for nearly a year.”

  
“Cas,” she said softly. “I’m good, you know that.”

  
“I know, I’m sorry. I should go, I’m still on duty,” he made no move after that statement. When did Emma get this close? They kept staring into each other eyes for a very long time. It should have been creepy.

  
“Your pants buzz,” Emma said after a while. He looked at her startled. She gave his pocket a pointed look. His phone was buzzing.

  
“Chief Castiel Novak?”

  
“You know the people calling you on that phone do know your name,” she said under her breath but got a scolding look from him anyways. She sniggered. He listened with a frown on his face.

  
“I’ll be right there,” he finished the call. “I really gotta go. Thanks for the coffee.” He straightened his uniform and handed her his cup. There was a moment of silence and all of the sudden he closed the couple of feet between them pulled her towards him with one hand on her hip and the other behind her head and pressed their lips together. It was far from elegant, with too much teeth, nooses and a little too wet. Emma going rigid in surprise wasn’t helping to ease it up. It was just awkward. He pushed himself away from her with an expression of horror on his face.

  
“I…uhm…oh god. I gotta go. I am so sorry,” he nearly ran out of the apartment. She stood there a couple of minutes without moving a coffee mug in each hand. She could still taste his chapstick. What the actual fuck.

  
~

  
Dean knocked on the passenger side window of Cas’ car that currently parked since roughly an hour in front of Dean’s house. The window slid down.

  
“Hey Cas, you might wanna stop whiteknuckling the steering wheel and come in? People are worrying what’s the matter with you.”

  
That was actually true. Dean got called. At work. The Chief was standing in front of his house in his car not moving much, just staring into nothingness. That’s why Dean was here. Cas turned his face to him, he was pale and his eyes wide. He looked like he had seen a ghost.

  
“You okay?”

  
“I kissed your sister,” he said in a toneless voice. Dean rubbed his neck. He stood tall for a second looking around the neighborhood, taking in a deep breath. Then he put his elbows in the window again.

  
“Yeah, I know. She called my couple hours ago. Said you’re not answering your phone. Wanted to know if I know where you are,” Dean sighed and got in the car.

  
“Drive!” he ordered. Cas was just staring at him.

  
“What did she tell you?”

  
“Start the car and drive!” Dean insisted. Cas fumbled with the keys for a second and pulled the Mustang on the street after he got it started. They just drove around. Cas exhaled deeply releasing a bit of the tension.

  
“What did she tell you?” he repeated.

  
“Not much: that you guys talked and had coffee, and then you assault kissed her, panicked and run away,” he could hear Cas swallowing loudly.

  
“Did she really say assault kissed her?” Dean shrugged.

  
“Yeah, but you know her, she says stuff like that without really meaning it. I don’t think she actually thinks you assaulted her or something. I have to say I am not surprised about the kissing attempts, but I am surprised about you freaking out. What are you, twelve?” Cas said nothing for a while. Dean eyed him warily. Cas Adams apple was bobbing up and down.

  
“You don’t understand. It was horrible and she didn’t want any of this. I don’t know what I was thinking. I ruined everything, her and I, you and I…” he pressed his lips together. Dean sighed another time. These two would be the end of him one day.

  
“Listen to me, before you even start to beat yourself up into a ‘this is the first woman I’m attracted to since my wife died and I ruined it’ spiral, you probably should talk to her first. And we are good, don’t worry about that."

  
“Would she even talk to me?”

  
“I don’t know, but maybe you answer one of her 8000 calls and find out,” Dean said sarcastically.

  
“How could you be so shockingly cool about this, I tried to kiss your sister?”

  
“My 33 year old sister. And it’s not like I hadn’t seen that coming, you guys are trying to get into each other’s pants since weeks. The amount of time you two spend staring dreamily into your eyes is frustratingly huge,” Dean huffed. “We actually thought about open a money pool and placing bets,” Cas scoffed.

  
“You weren’t there. I don’t believe that my feelings for her are mutual. It was like she was physically in pain when I touched her,” Dean frowned at him.

  
“So is this you being pissed about yourself or pissed about her for not melting into your arms? I’m not quite sure what kind of vibes I’m getting here. She was probably just surprised. I would be surprised if I got kissed by my fling all of the sudden. I mean I was. You should have seen me when Cain kissed me the first time. He thought I didn’t want it, too. Kind of enhanced by the fact that I ran away. But hey look where we are now,” Cas didn’t seemed convinced. They remained silent until Cas asked Dean if he could drop him off somewhere.

  
“The shop,” when Dean climbed out of the car Cas had calmed down and was nearly feeling normal again.

  
“Seriously, talk to her. You will see everything will be just fine, ok?”

  
Cas didn’t talk to her. She tried to call him a couple more times but he simply ignored it. Anna had a sleepover at her best friend’s house so there was not much to do for Cas. He moped around the house, cleaned already clean surfaces, cooked himself a sad dinner, watched T.V., and drank a glass of the cheap Scotch he kept in a drawer in his office to chastise himself. There was a knock on the door. Cas frowned and felt a bit of panic. What if this was Emma? He could pretend not to be at home, but well, the lights were on and you could see the T.V. flicker from the porch. It knocked again. He heaved himself up and shuffled slowly to the door. He looked through the spyhole. Nobody was there. Cas frowned, all of the sudden he was in police officer mode. He opened the door and slowly stepped outside the porch. He eyed his surrounding carefully but couldn’t see anybody. He shrugged and went back inside making sure the door was locked. He even set the alarm. When he came back inside the living room Emma was sniffing on his glass and twisting her face in disgust. She looked up to him through her lashes and tucked her bottom lip.

  
“How did you get in here?” he asked. She just shrugged.

  
“You keep ignoring my calls and we will have a problem, Chief,” she said in a neutral tone. She wandered over to him without hurry and casually gripped his belt pushing him against the wall of his living room. She was really close, close enough he could feel her breath hot against his chin.

  
“Is Anna home?” she asked in a dark voice. He just shook his head. A dirty little smirk appeared in her face but was gone after a second. She leant impossible closer. Her body pressed against his body. He could feel the soft roundness of her breasts and she could probably feel what was going on in his Jeans.

  
“If you don’t stop me I will kiss you now,” she stated. He stared down on her lips and back to her eyes again. He swallowed.

  
“Emma,” he began but never went on.

  
“Is this you stopping me?” she nearly whispered. All he managed was shaking his head lately. The kiss was so much different from the one before it could as well be another discipline. Their lips found each other and Cas couldn’t help but let out a little satisfied moan. She chuckled before her tongue softly brushed his lips licking them open. Cas moaned again when her tongue slipped in his mouth. He gently bit it until she withdrew it and nibbled on Emma’s bottom lip for a second. He put his hand on the side of her head and kissed her in earnest now. Soon their kisses became more passionate and more a fight over dominance, only interrupted by short moments of breathless intakes of air. She pushed him away after a while, here irises wide with lust, her cheeks flushed and her lips red and swollen from the relentless kissing. She looked so beautiful something in his chest burst and he was sure his heart beat was as erratic as his breath.

  
“Where is your bedroom?” she asked making his body in generally and his erection especially twitch in response. He took her hand and pulled her up the stairs. They got rid of various parts of their clothing while staggering upstairs and Cas couldn’t quite fathom it. This was finally happening.

  
~

  
She was laying half on top of his chest, her head buried in the mold between his neck and his shoulders. Her hair was tickling his cheek and he could feel her lashes on his chest. He was absently caressing the sensitive skin of the rim of her scar. It was bigger than he imagined and it wasn’t pretty, but he couldn’t care less, although he tried to avoid touching it: Emma didn’t seem to like it. She had lightly traced the lines of the tattoo on his lower ripcage with her fingers until he interlaced them with his, their hands now resting on his chest. He felt so cozy, warm, and content, it was just perfect. Until his phone rang. He groaned, she chuckled. Emma was trolling for the phone and took a quick look on the display.

  
“Meg Master, friend of yours?” she teased.

  
“Ah, shit,” he gently pushed her aside when he got up. “You know her, its Crowley’s daughter. She’s married now. Anna is at a sleepover at her. Hello?” He already was out of the bed looking for his boxer briefs. He gave her an apologetic look. “No problem, don’t worry. I’ll be right there. Give me 15 minutes max, okay?” Emma rolled on her back. Well, this was obviously over, now. Anna’s timing could have been worse, though. They dressed quickly.

  
“I can quite shake the feeling I am sneaking out of your house before your parents get home,” she chuckled. His eyes went soft and he pulled her in for a chaste kiss.

  
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  
“Don’t be, it’s okay, I mean it,” she couldn’t help but to lay her hand on his cheek. Usually, she wasn’t one for overly excessive display of affection, but why not, she was now. He leant into it.

  
“I really want to do this,” he said softly.

  
“You are playing the pronoun game now?” she earned a little admonishing look. “I want to do this, too. I am just not sure how.”

  
“Yeah, I know, me too. We could take it slow, I guess. Making things up as we go,” he gave her a private little smile quoting one of Dean’s most famous catchphrases. It was an inside joke. This line coming from Dean was super bullshit considering that he was one of the most organized and foreseeing person in the history of organization and foresight. That guy had back plans for back plans.

  
“Sounds good,” they kissed a little more. Then he pulled away.

  
“Okay, you get home okay?”

  
“Yes, I have my car here. I see you Saturday?” he nodded pressing a last kiss on her forehead.

  
“I probably call you earlier, though. I am very clingy,” he grinned at her while opening the door. She was ambling to her car when she noticed the dark figure on the porch of her parents’ house. I should totally have seen that coming.

  
“Hey, Dad. Does Mom know you are smoking here?” she crossed the lawn and stopped right in front of the stairs. She saw him shrugging.

  
“It’s your mother, probably yes. Better here than inside the house. She said she will divorce me if she’ll catch me again in the garage,” he grinned.

  
“I won’t tell if you don’t tell,” she said, pretty sure he totally understood the ambiguity of her words. She couldn’t quite see her father’s eyes, but he was still smiling.

  
“You know you could do worse than Castiel Novak,” he said in a casual tone. Was that her father giving them his blessing? She scoffed.

  
“He could probably do better than me, but we will see. I’ll see you guys on Saturday, right?”

  
“Absolutely. You drive safe,” her father yelled after her.


	11. April 9th

“This? Is boring as shit. I don’t know what I was thinking. I am not even sure if I am actually balancing the books or doing accidentally something illegal here,” Emma took a long thoughtful look at the spreadsheet in front of her. Dean was chuckling.

  
“That’s why I am here for, let me see,” they switched seats and Emma dropped on the sofa in her small office. It was a ragged, worn out leather sofa that was always part of the Roadhouse. It smelled weird. She had spent many nights on that old thing. It was actually pretty uncomfortable.

  
“You had some pretty good weeks, but don’t think I will do this every month. Why do you spend so much money on bread?”

  
“Because Cas’ brother is a fucking asshole. Bakes burger buns you want to run off with to Vegas to get married, but charges so much I do earn virtually nothing on my burgers. But hey, it’s not like this is the most popular dish here.”

  
“Your profit margins are fine. Call it mixed calculation and be done with it. Or raise the price, I would pay a dollar more for the burgers, they are fucking awesome. Are you coming this afternoon? Gabe will be there, get him drunk, make him sign a new contract,” she laughed.

  
“Yeah, I get him drunk at a children’s birthday party. Cas will love that. But I will be there, promised Anna. And I have the feeling I need to cover Cas back,” Dean looked at her with a concerned frown.

  
“Yeah, me too. The weeks around Anna’s birthday are never easy on him. Don’t know if this big party is such a good idea, but obviously, it’s expected by the real housewives of Suburgatory. I wonder when we have to start pulling something like this.”

  
“I think you have another year or two. Do you think I should shift my closing day to Tuesday? I have the feeling that it’s a slow day, maybe Monday would be a little better attended,” Dean shrugged.

  
“The hell would I know, trial and error I suppose. What’ve you got her?” Emma grabbed a present wrapped in Frozen present paper.

  
“Cas’ approved Lego game called “Shave the Sheep”. It’s pretty cool if you are…5 I guess. I’m scared already that I have to play it with her,” she let the present drop back into her messenger bag.

  
“Can I ask you something?” Dean turned the office chair to her. “Do you just pretend not to like all that children stuff or do you actually don’t like that children stuff. I don’t enjoy all of it neither, but you always let it sound like it’s a chore,” Emma palmed her face.

  
“Is this you trying to tell me that Cas is coming only in a set with Anna?”

  
“This is exactly what I’m doing right now,” she smiled a little.

  
“It’s not like I tell Anna in the face I think your T.V. show sucks. I actually watch it with her. I am awesome in pretending when it comes to the kid. I pretend I love playing two hours straight hide and seek with Emmi either and you daughter thinks behind the coffee table is a good hiding place,” Dean had to outright laugh at that.

  
“Yeah, that’s true. I can’t argue with that. She really loves you. Forget what I said, okay? So, you and Cas, how is that going?” he raised is eyebrows questioningly. She smiled.

  
“Fine, we are good, really good actually. He never lets me stay over, though. I mean I guess it’s because he thinks it will be weird for Anna, but I have the impression she would be fine with it. But it’s not the best of times right now to push him, so I won’t complain.”

  
~

  
Emma was irritated. There were kids everywhere, small kids. Appearing and disappearing between her legs and she had to think of Deans words a couple of hours ago. Maybe he had a point? But seeing Anna’s eyes light up and Emmi snuggling her chubby face in her shoulder felt kind of nice. It was too much though. There was even a bouncer castle. She found Cas looking lost between a bunch of middle aged women Emma liked to call the Stepford Moms, even if they weren’t actually that bad. Although they were currently all hitting on Cas and Emma just didn’t like them on principle. When he spotted her his eyes lightened up and he excused himself, well aware that it must look really suspicious to his neighbors. There was talk already, but today he couldn’t care less. He pulled her into a tight hug and buried his face in her shoulder for a second. He took a long breath before he whispered in her ear.

  
“None of this is my doing. I hate Gabriel. There is Pony and a Clown somewhere. I haven’t seen it yet, but I am sure of it,” she chuckled while rubbing his back. “I mean it’s a circus basically. Anna loves it, but I really feel the urge to hide in the basement. Are they staring?”

  
“Oh yeah, like manicured vultures with 500 dollar haircuts,” that had him laughing. He took a step away from her, one hand still on her arm. That was more PDA than usual. Cas was being a little clingy these days, Emma understood. He ran his fingers through his hair.

  
“I’m gonna look for my daughter, and Dean, and then something with alcohol in it. I talk to you later? Get yourself something to eat and drink, would you?” Emma fake saluted him and watched him walk away clearly observing his ass. She maybe was teasing the housewife faction with that. She turned around to follow Cas advice and nearly ran into a petite woman with dark curls and a snarky smile.

  
“Well if that isn’t the prodigal daughter returning and having her hands all over the Chief. You know you have my father all in tears for denying the old man a social visit? I am pretty sure he has a punching bag with your name on it already up and a bottle of Craig to trade war stories,” Emma actually felt a little bad. She was procrastinating visiting the boxing gym for months now.

  
“Meg, hey. Look at you. All grown up with a kid and a husband. Who would've known? Tell Crow… your father I will come by next week. I was pretty busy, nothing personal. I miss the old crook,” they both grinned at each other awkwardly. Meg was a couple of years younger than Emma and a constant presence in the gym usually staring at her when she was there. They never really talked. Four years are ages when you are a teenager. Emma wasn’t sure if she was supposed to do small talk with her or not.

  
“How’s Sammy?” Meg finally asked. She had been in the same year in high school. Emma tucked her lips.

  
“Good, he’s a Dad now, a son, just three months old actually. Pretty small for having the moose as a dad,” Meg laughed and pointed at a little dark haired boy who currently tried to snatch away a plastic tiara from Anna’s head.

  
“That little demon over there is Alfie. The two are inseparable, so you better get used to him, and me for the matter,” Emma looked down on the small woman and Meg winked at her. Emma kept a neutral expression.

  
“You named your son Alfie?” Meg shrugged.

  
“I named my son Alfred Alexander. Alfred’s the name of Al’s late father. That’s my husband,” she eyed around among the adults. “He is here somewhere, maybe I introduce you two later. You should go and look for your boyfriend. I have to say Clarence isn’t looking so hot today,” Meg sipped on her punch, probably spiked.

  
“Yeah, no kiddin’,” she murmured don’t bothering with correcting Meg that Cas (Emma at least hoped that Meg was referring to Cas with Clarence) technically wasn’t her boyfriend. At least not officially. Emma wandered around the party, occasionally talking to someone, eating some cake and a burger (not as good as hers or Deans, but decent enough), getting Anna’s Tiara as a present and gave it to Emmi a little later. She was standing with her parents watching Emmi in the bouncing castle when Dean took her by the elbow and dragged her a couple of steps away.

  
“Cas has a meltdown, he locked himself in his study,” she frowned at him.

  
“What happened?” Dean sighed.

  
“One of the Moms said how nice everything here is and that his wife would have really enjoyed it like she knew her or something and he just ran off. I’m glad he didn’t bail and just locked himself, but he won’t open, not to me, not to Cain, not to Gabe. You’re my only hope, Obi Van,” she followed him upstairs. Gabe was currently trying to sweet talk Cas out of the study. Cain was leaning on the opposite wall with crossed arms looking a mix between annoyed and concerned. He didn’t like Gabriel. Emma took the smaller man by his shoulders and pushed him gently aside.

  
“Cas?”

  
“Go away!”

  
“Oh it lives,” Gabe was muttered under his breath. Emma glared at him.

  
“Open the door, please!” she said a little louder than before, and a little more insisting.

  
“No, now go away,” Emma rubbed her neck. She wasn’t good in that.

  
“Open the door. Don’t you think we already tried that?” Gabe asked sarcastically. Emma agreed with Cain’s opinion about the hatchet-faced man at the moment. She turned to him with a what-am-I-supposed-to-do gesture. She sighed and looked at the ceiling.

  
“Alright,” she said softly. Then she positioned herself in front of the door. “I know you’re going through something here but you behave like a child. It’s your daughter’s birthday party and there is supposed to be some cake-candle-present ceremony bullshit and she wants her fucking Dad. So open the goddamn door or I swear I will kick it in. You know I can do that and you know me well enough now that I will do it. Don’t make me start counting,” there was no sound on the other side. “One,” they heard steps shuffle to the door and a klick when Cas unlocked it.

  
“That was a way to handle it, I guess,” Cain said with a smirk. “Let’s give them a minute, shall we?” he hushed Dean and Gabe away shooting Emma a reassuring look. She stepped into the study. Cas was sitting in his office chair again with his face in his hands. Emma sighed. She pitied him, but pity was probably not what he needed right now. She walked to him, turned the chair to her and knelt before him, gently taking his hands and resting them on his knees, their fingers interlaced. He avoided looking at her.

  
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, fighting a wave of crying. He tried to pull away but she wouldn’t let him.

  
“Sorry for what? Locking yourself in leaving your daughter in a house full of strangers? You should probably feel sorry for that. For feeling miserable and sad because this is the day your wife died not so much. Don’t be sorry for that, okay?” she put a hand on his cheek forcing him to look at her. He avoided looking in her eyes now.

  
“I just…sometimes I still just miss her so much,” his voice broke when a sob came out of his chest. She pulled him in a hug and wrapped her arms around him. His body was shaking violently from crying. She was wondering how long he was holding it back now. After a long while, he calmed down and pushed himself away.

  
“She will never see Anna growing up, beginning school, having her first boyfriend or whatever. This is just not how things were supposed to be. Sometimes I wake up and even if it’s been five years I half expect her to lie next to me or to stand in the kitchen drinking coffee. It’s like a part of me was ripped away and it still hurts so much I can barely think about her, and I am sorry. I feel like this is so unfair towards you. You did so much for me and Anna the last months and I don’t want you to think that I am still,” he trailed of. His eyes shortly met hers but he let his gaze drop immediately.

  
“You don’t want me to think that you still love her?” she offered softly. His face told her all she needed to know. She sighed. “Cas, I know that you still love her, okay? I would actually wonder if you don’t love her. She was your wife and she was taken from you. You will probably love her for the rest of your life. And that is okay. I am not mad or disappointed or jealous, alright? I know how it hurts. It’s only been five years, it will get better, every day a little better. Someday you will be able to think about her or talk about her without the pain. You will be able to tell Anna stories about her to get to know the mother she never met. You won’t feel pain in your chest but warmth and you will smile about all the memories, because you still love her. You should savor this love Cas, nobody should ever try to take it away from you, I sure as hell ain’t. You need to mourn. You wanna be angry? Be angry. You wanna be sad? Be sad. But you can’t do this Cas,” she gestured around the room. “You can’t just hide and play dead to the world. You are a father and Anna needs you strong. But you don’t have to be strong for me. I am here if you need me and I am planning on staying, okay?” he stared at her wide eyed, but then he nodded and lent forward to put their foreheads together. It was strangely more intimate than hugging or even kissing. They sat there for a long while.

  
“Emma?” he asked softly. She just hummed as an answer. “How do you know that? The pain.” Instead of answering she pulled out her dog tags she still was wearing. She flipped through the three and handed him one with the name David Filch, a number, blood type and catholic as religion.

  
“Benny lied to the officials that they couldn’t find it so I could have his tag. I met him in Afghanistan of all places. He was probably the first man I really loved. Sometimes I think it wouldn’t have worked out, but I never got the chance to find out. I was broken-hearted for years, throw myself into work, pushed myself harder and further. I didn’t even realized it first that I could actually hold his tag without starting to cry. It will get better Cas, give it time,” he flipped the tags in his hands and gave it back to her. She put it back over her neck and smiled at him.

  
“How did he…sorry, I shouldn’t ask,” Emma smiled a little bit softer.

  
“It’s okay. Really. He was in the same Humvee with me, the one we hit a mine with. Benny had to make a decision whom he saved and he decided that I had the better chance of survival, so he pulled me out before the whole vehicle finally blew up. I hated Benny for that, told him that he should have let me die there, too. He just listened to my yelling or took the punches I threw. I was messed up, really. I can’t believe that it’s already been twelve years now,” she shook her head to emphasize what she just said.

  
“Did you ever tell your family this?”

  
“Nah, just Benny knows and some military shrink.”

  
“Thanks for sharing this with me,” she chuckled a little.

  
“Yeah, you’re welcome. It’s not like I keep things like that a secret, I just don’t like talking about it. But I wanted you to know, because I want you to know me. I like you Cas, a lot,” he smiled at her. His first real smile since he stopped crying.

  
“I like you, too, a lot. Can you stay over tonight? I’m not sure if I want to be alone today.”

  
“Sure, I can do that, if it is what you want?”

  
“Thanks, I should probably wash up and proceed with the cake-candle-present ceremony bullshit,” he kissed her. The kiss was different from all the other kisses they had shared. Not the quick, kind of innocent pecks he gave her when he kissed her hello or goodbye and sure as hell not the passionate kisses they had before they inevitably ended out of breath and blissed next to each other on the bed. This one was chaste, but lovingly and she felt warmth crawling from her stomach to her face. She melted into it and sighed disappointedly when it ended.

  
20 minutes later Cas held Anna over the big cake Gabe hat made while the birthday girl tried to blow out the five candles. It was Gabe, they were trick candles and wouldn’t go out. Anna cursed like a sailor. The Stepford Moms made faces were everything from eyes to mouth was O-shaped. The Winchesters had the grace to hide their chuckles behind hands and rolled eyes. Mary, John and Cain gave Emma a scolding look. Meg laughed so hard punch came out of her nose. Cas pretended to be shocked, but barely was able to keep his game face. Emma stood a bit away, leaning on a post of Cas porch.

  
“Well, I guess these unholy words were your doing?” Gabriel stepped next to her putting a fork full of cake in his mouth. Emma shrugged.

  
“That girl has ears like a … an animal with good hearing. I don’t know, a bobcat,” he grinned.

  
“Cassie looks good, happy.”

  
“We had a nice long talk. Does he ever talk about her?” Gabe sighed.

  
“The name Josephine Novak never felt in this house or any other since five years. I even doubt anybody knows her name, but me. Well, and you know,” he ate another fork of cake. “Winchester, you are weird, aggressive, annoying, cynical, impolite, kind of bossy, and you actually scare me a bit, but you are good for my baby-bro, so…”

  
“So?”

  
“Let’s renegotiate those bread prices, shall we?”

  
~

  
Somehow Emma ended up to be the big spoon. After all the guest left, which was pretty early, but hey, it was a children’s party, the Winchesters made themselves useful cleaning up the mess. Emma went to the Roadhouse. She had made Eli her manager since he was pretty experienced in working in Bars and Restaurants. The tall guy from Vermont reminded her of Benny and she liked him instantly. She also liked that he could mix a mean Hurricane, and was big and intimidating enough to keep drunks from making trouble. The first month she only paid minimum wage, but it turned out real fast that the new Roadhouse was as much as a success as the old one, so she raised the wages substantially, thanks to being afloat in the first place. Her crew loved her for that, and for letting them keep all the tips. Eli grinned like an idiot when she informed him that the Roadhouse would be his gig tonight.

  
Cas had already put Anna to bed when she came back to his house. The little girl was tired from her exciting day and dead to the world. Cas was exhausted, too, mostly emotionally so they went to bed early as well. He didn’t talk much, but he told her that he met Josi at work. Someone broke in to her apartment. She was scared to go back and so Officer Novak stopped by every day for nearly 4 months to make sure she was alright. Emma smiled at this, because it sounded totally like something Cas would do. She asked him out. Cas cried a little more, not violently like before, but soft little sobs into the crook of her neck. She calmed him down with gentle fingers in his hair, occasionally causing his body to shiver when her fingernails lightly scratched the sensitive skin of his head. He fall asleep in her arms and that’s how Emma ended up to be the big spoon.

  
~

  
Emma woke up way to early. Cas was like a heating blanket. For a second she wondered if he was sick and feverish, but his skin wasn’t actually hot, the whole guy just radiated heat. She sighed. Clothes were probably obligatory with a five year old in the house, so she would have to get used to it. It would be nice in winter, though. She cuddled a little closer letting her arm slip under his shirt to feel the soft skin of his belly and chest. She could stay like that, she decided. Cas had told her, that he wasn’t much of a morning person and that he tended to sleep in on weekends. Emma had wondered what Anna was doing during that mornings and now she got the answer from the living room downstairs. She sighed and sat up, staring at Cas who snored a little bit. He looked adorable.

  
“How could you still be asleep?” she mumbled softly. Emma let her fingers run through his hair (it was one of her favorite things to do) and gave him a soft kiss on his neck. Cas buried himself a little deeper into his pillow in response and made a sound that was nothing but content. She had to smile. Grateful for carpet all over the house she made her way downstairs barefoot. Anna was sitting on the couch watching a cartoon way to loud eating breakfast of the champignons. Cas had told her that Emma was staying over so she was not really surprised when she let herself drop next to the girl.

  
“What you eatin'?”

  
“Cake. There is some in the fridge,” the little girl offered. Emma tucked her bottom lip.

  
“I can live with that,” Emma got herself a piece and sat on the couch again. To her surprise, Anna snuggled herself into her.

  
“Did you sleep with Daddy because he was sad?” Emma had to smile about Anna’s choice of words.

  
“Yeah, he was a little sad yesterday so I kept him company,” Emma chewed on her cake watching Spiderman doing Spiderman stuff on T.V.

  
“When I’m sad Daddy gives me a hug. Did you give Daddy a hug?” Emma rubbed her neck. This could get pretty awkward pretty fast.

  
“Yeah, there were definitely hugs. I don’t think he is sad anymore right now,” Anna nodded satisfied. They sat in silence, well they didn’t talk, the T.V. made enough noise for both of them.

  
“Will you sleep here again?” Anna looked up to her with Cas eyes.

  
“Yeah, I guess,” she smiled down on the girl who snuggled even closer. Emma jumped when Cas somehow managed to slip behind her on the couch tugging her and his daughter close. He kissed her neck which was more tickling than anything. Emma lent her head on his shoulder.

  
“Hey.”

  
“Hey,” he smiled at her warmly. “My two favorite girls eating a healthy breakfast, huh.”

  
“Uncle Gabe said I could eat as much cake as I want,” Anna pouted. Emma was surprised the girl got Cas irony. She was pretty smart and sure as hell knew how to read her father.

  
“Sounds like something your uncle would say, but,” Cas got up a took their plates away (Emma was not protesting that she was just eating that). “I think it’s my responsibility to feed my child and my girlfriend some healthy stuff from the wholefood apartment of a real store. You cannot live on sugar and whipped cream alone,” Anna jumped up excitedly.

  
“So you are Daddy’s girlfriend now?” Emma chuckled.

  
“I hope so, I heard your Daddy makes an awesome breakfast. Keep watching your cartoon I’m going to help your Dad, alright?” she strolled over to the kitchen and lent on a counter watching Cas putting ingredients out of the fridge.

  
“Girlfriend, huh, I like the sound of that,” she beamed at him.

  
“Me, too. You up to oatmeal?”

  
“Hell, no!”


	12. April 12th

“Well there-there. Look what the cat dragged in. Emma Winchester. Long time no see. Back from overseas? Done bashing in Nazi skulls?” Emma shook her wet raincoat a bit and searched around in the dim lit room for the source of the gruff voice with the heavy British accent. The man stepped from behind one of the rings. He was a familiar sight. He was a couple of inches shorter than Emma, clad in black sweatpants and a black tee revealing a fading green and red dragon on his left arm. His short black hair and beard were peppered with white now, maybe the only proof of the 14 years that had passed since she saw him last.  
“You really should get yourself a T.V., or the internet, or a string telephone. You’re a little outdated with the current enemies of the States,” the man shrugged.

  
“At the end, the nuisance is the same. Eisenhower still president?” he smirked. She ignored that she left a trail of rain droplets on the worn out hardwood floor and walked straight at the man to give him a one-armed hug. He patted her friendly on the shoulder.

  
“I have to say I am glad to see you. Returning from the dead kind of suits you,” she laughed at that.

  
“Don’t look so bad yourself, for an old chap,” he rolled his eyes. She followed him into his office and fell down on a chair that had seen better days.

  
“Don’t mutilate the words of the mother country with your horrible accent, it hurts my ears. Can I fancy you for a drink? Reckon you old enough now to do so legally,” Emma laughed. She actually had her fair share of underage whiskey with the man. Anybody other than Fergus Crowley and you might insinuate the attempt of something inappropriate behind it, but there was none. When Emma, 15, 10 inches shorter, a still fuming Ellen beside her, the arrogant I-don’t-wanna-be-here-face of a troubled teenager airing and crossed arms over her chest stood in front of the man for the first time he gave her one measured look and figured her out immediately. He made it clear that there was no bullshitting with him. He also made clear that if he showed her to throw punches like a pro he would give her a once-over if she would use this new found knowledge on other kids. He outright tortured her with rope skipping, push-ups, crunches and endless repetitions of jabs on the punching bag while enjoying it way too much to keep telling her that she would “Hit like a wuss.” The first punch she threw into his face was an off-aim cross and he just looked at her unimpressed and deadpanned that her technique was shitty. This was followed by endless repetitions of crosses to a punching bag. The first time he put her in a ring with a sparring partner it turned out to be an older black guy named Gordon. Emma looked at Crowley with a horrified expression that had no business being in public, but he only shrugged and said she could handle him. Gordon told her that she was a batshit crazy bitch after she managed to break the skin of his cheek despite the head protector and Crowley told him to get the hell out of his gym for being a resentful pussy. She became pretty good, even won a couple of amateur fights. Crowley was probably the first adult she truly respected and after a year he was probably the first adult that truly respected her, a respect hard-earned with sweat, a little blood and lot of curses and rewarded with her first glass of Scotch. It was horrible by the way.

  
“Well, I guess it’s an odd thing to start the conversation with how nice your funeral was?” he said with a straight face while pouring her a glass of (indeed expensive) Scotch. She shrugged. In the tradition of the U.S. Military, there was a place for everything, apparently for dead soldiers as well. Her destined cemetery was the Leavenworth National Cemetery, but Dean threatened to cause a scandal and so allegedly dead Emma was buried in Lawrence. It was quite a show for the good people of the city, solemn-looking soldiers in their parade uniform, gun salutes, artistic flag origami, and from time to time she would meet some unknown face with soft and gentle eyes touching her arm and say what a beautiful ceremony it was. Emma always wanted to throw up afterward.

  
“Not you too, Fergus,” she said with a faint smile earning a twitch in his face for saying his first name out loud.

  
“Only my mother can call me that, bless her soul,” she frowned.

  
“Rowena passed away?”

  
“Unfortunately not, but a girl can hope, can’t she?”


	13. May 17th

It was a pretty quiet evening at the Roadhouse and Madison and Aaron were manning the kitchen and the bar area alone. Eli had his evening off, their boss running errands. Emma trusting them to handle the restaurant by themselves after only a couple of weeks was a great honor and Maddie wanted to make sure everything went smoothly. That’s why she eyed the three young man playing pool on one of the corner tables carefully. They were a little bit too loud, too drunk and too rude for Maddie’s taste, and she was sure that they were looking for trouble. Not that they would find much here. Besides them, only three regulars were scattered around the restaurant in various states of quiet drunkenness. Ash was one of them and he currently was occupying a barstool right in front of her. When he came in they had tried to make fun of his mullet, but Ash only shook his hair and said: “What can I say, business on the front, party in the back” and they had dropped it. Still, Maddie didn’t like it. Ash followed her gaze.

“You think they mean trouble?” he asked. “You can always throw them out, deny them service or whatever.” She sighed.

“I know, but they actually didn’t do anything. They just make me nervous. I wish Emma was here, she would know what to do.” Ash nursed his beer for a second while Maddie dried another beer glass.

“Where is the bosswoman anyway?”

“Gabriel Novak’s. He is making our burger buns and our bread, and she is negotiating with him about something. I don’t know, business stuff. She said she will probably have dinner with him and will be back around 7,” Ash whistled.

“Have dinner with him, lucky bastard,” Maddie shrugged.

“Not in a romantic way, believe me. I saw them together. Besides, I heard she and the Chief are a thing?” she looked at him questioningly and he let the beer bottle plop out of his mouth.

“Don’t know. If the Chief or Captain Marvel are kissing and telling my bossman he doesn’t share it with the class.”

The evening dragged on and some more dinner customers showed up, including Dean who carried Emma on his hip.

“Hey Maddie, is Em in?” he sat his daughter on the counter next to where Ash just sipped on his second beer. He clapped him on the back hard enough to make him cough.

“Good job with the Chevelle, buddy. Nobody will be able to tell that those fenders aren’t original. That’s what I am talking about,” Maddie put a can of apple juice and a straw in front of him, and Dean opened it with a grateful smile. Emmi was sucking on the treat in no time.

“Emma is at the Novak bakery. You wanna drink something?”

“Still with the bread, huh? What takes it so long, it’s just bread. I’ll take a coke actually and then the usual to go. You want chicken fingers or onion rings, munchkin?” Emmi made a thoughtful face, frowning eyebrows included.

“I want curled fries,” she said with determination and Dean made an impressed face.

“The little lady knows her junk food, curled fries it is,” he exclaimed and then added in a soft voice only Maddie could hear. “But some chicken fingers as well, just in case.” He put his daughter in his lap and entertained himself with Ash while he waited, well aware that there was a guy on the pool table in the far left corner that kept staring angrily at him. When he excused himself leaving Emmi in Ash’s and Maddie’s care for a minute and headed to the restroom he could feel the death glares of the guy on the back of his neck. He was half expecting him to follow. He didn’t know him and he didn’t know what his problem was, but he looked like a guy who was looking for a fight, and Dean was not up to this. He washed his hands and made his way back to his daughter and hopefully a bag with juicy burgers, fries, and chicken fingers when he practically ran into the guy, who sort of cornered him against the wall, his buddies in tow.

“You are Dean Winchester,” the man stated, nearly spitting out Dean's name. “From that garage on 8th Street.”

“Uhm, yeah,” Dean made an attempt to walk past the guy but he kept stepping in his way.

“I applied there once, do you remember that?” Why would he, he had no idea who the guy was.

“No, sorry,” he tried to pass again, but the men wouldn’t let him. Dean sighed. He quickly shot a glance at his daughter. She was oblivious of what happened, so were Ash and Madison.

“You don’t even bother to contact me,” he was drunker than Dean had expected. Personally, he didn’t believe what the guy said, they usually send out at least letters of refusal, but he wouldn’t argue.

“Sorry, that happens sometimes. Look, I am here with my daughter, I don’t look for trouble, okay?” he tried to reason not only with the aggressor in front of him but with his buddies, too. At least the youngest one seemed to be unsure.

“Yeah, I bet. Wouldn’t want to work for a faggot anyways,” the insult shot a spike of fury through Dean, but he swallowed it down, Emmi was here. Also, the guy took a sip of his beer and was turning away. So maybe Dean had jumped the gun.

He got sucker punched. The punch was forceful, but the aim was off, hitting Dean’s chin, not the middle of his face. It made his head spin, but it didn’t send him on the floor. He could hear Maddie scream and Emmi start to cry. Somehow his perception was altered because he could see the second punch coming for him in slow motion. It never reached him. Suddenly the guy simultaneously fell towards him while being pulled back, his arm awkwardly frozen in midair. Emma had gripped his elbow tight and kicked him hard in the back of his left knee. Dean could see the flash of pain in his face. His knees hit the floor hard and he groaned. Emma twisted his arm, getting another yelp from the man, and put him in a headlock. She somehow managed to toss him around and on his back with enough force, that the back of his head hit the floor. He was dazed. She pulled him up on his shirt and tossed him back again ordering “Stay down!” in that military voice of hers. Dean could see Maddie running to the phone. She probably was calling the cops. Emmi was crying hysterically. Ash was barely able to hold her.

“Go to her,” she said. Her voice was steady, calm and even like she hadn’t just beat up a guy. The whole thing had just taken a couple of seconds, but it wasn’t over. Emma stood up facing the buddies. The youngest one, who looked panicky before, now looked like he wanted to actually make a run for it. The other not so much.

“Don’t do anything stupid, boy,” her voice left no room for interpretation what would happen if he came for her. He charged but didn’t make it far. She dodged his sloppy punch easily and hit him in his chest with her palm. Dean remembered that this was exactly the way Dad had shown him to punch all those years ago and he wondered for a split second if it was a military thing. He huffed and cringed forward giving her the great opportunity to kick her knee hard enough into his balls that everybody in the diner, including Dean, let out a little, shocked breath. Gentlemen rules didn’t apply in a street fight, right? He didn’t even make a sound, just dropped to the floor like his bones dissipated. The third guy put his hand in the air like she had a gun on him. Dean finally defrosted. He ran to Emmi who was still crying, pressed her to his chest and started to mutter soothing nonsense. Nobody was moving. Emma stood in the center of it and was massaging her palm.

“You called the police?” she asked Maddie who just nodded. Dean couldn’t help but think that his sister looked like just another day in the office, calm and almost relaxed. It was actually kind of creepy. But well, this must be terra firma for her. The first guy, who started the mess, reached for something. Something tucked in the rim of his Jeans, something like… Emma’s head snapped and she was over him like she transported herself there. She twisted the guy’s wrist until he dropped the gun. With three efficient movements, she released the magazine and put it in her pocket, shoved the cartridge chamber back and forth checking for a bullet in the barrel, and finally tucked the piece in her Jeans. Then she grabbed his wrist again, twisted it forcefully against his back and brought her mouth close to his ear. There was rage in her eyes, but her expressions were calm. Her voice was cold as ice. She was scary as shit.

“You bring a concealed weapon to my bar?” she twisted, he yelped.

“You dare to draw that weapon? In my house?” another twist. You could hear bones grind.

“You” twist “dare to threaten” twist, a scream “my family” twist, a popping sound, a louder scream “with a fucking gun?”

“Emma, that’s enough!” Castiel’s voice was firm, loud and full of authority. He had one hand on his holster, but it was clear that the gesture was not directed towards her. Jody was already pulling up the still wincing the second guy from the floor. She didn’t need to cuff him. Emma was staring at Cas. For a second it looked like she would continue breaking the guy’s wrist.

“Took you long enough,” she finally huffed standing up, casually punching the guy in the kidney. Cas gave her a scolding look but didn’t comment. He wasn’t gentle when he pulled him up and wasn’t even less gentle when he closed the cuffs on an already swollen wrist. And he might have used more force than necessary to shove him out of the Roadhouse in the waiting police car. She was not wrong: he had tried to draw a gun in a room full of innocent people including three he considered family. He slapped the roof of the car and watched it drive away. The guys would spend the night in a holding cell. If Dean and Emma would press charges at least two of them might face some more time behind bars. Or maybe not. He hadn’t seen the whole shebang, but what he saw could mean the guy pressing charges against Emma. This was America after all. He palmed his face and went back inside. The mood was awkward. Everybody was looking at Emma except for Dean who was still rocking his daughter back and forth, her crying reduced to little sobs. There was a bruise on his chin.

“Okay, show’s over, eat up, drink up, and then out of here. I’ll shut this place down for the night. And don’t forget to pay your bills,” Emma made a whatever gesture and sat on a barstool. Her customers walked out of the Roadhouse one by one, some muttering protest of being thrown out by Castiel. He kept his game face on. He knew every single one of them, so there was no need to keep them here.  
“You okay?” he asked Dean who actually didn’t look okay at all. He was shell-shocked. Not because of Emma, but because a guy he didn’t know had basically drawn a gun on her. It could’ve been him. It could’ve been his daughter. Emma grabbed a bottle from behind the counter and a glass and pushed the shot to him.

“Here, drink,” she ordered. He stared at the glass.

“I’ll have to drive,” he said flatly. She just snorted.

“You will be driving nowhere tonight. You tremble like a leaf. Guns tend to do this.”

“She’s right Dean, I will make an officer get you home. You feel like giving me a statement? We can do it tomorrow if you want.”

“What? No, it’s good, I’m good,” he drowned the shot and then another. 15 minutes later he was on his way home, he even had his food with him. Madison and Aaron basically told Cas what Dean told him. It was self-defense. Emma sent them home as well, leaving her and Cas alone. She still sat on the barstool, peeling on the label of Ash’s beer bottle. When he sat next to her she shoved the gun with the magazine on top towards him.

“Am I in trouble?” he took the magazine and played with it for a while.

“Probably not. You didn’t break his wrist which is good. I can nail him on breaking the piece, assault, the concealed weapon if he doesn’t have a carry permit, enough to keep him from charging you, I think. Do I need to worry?” she tucked her bottom lip. Still cute.

“I won’t go after him if he won’t be punished with the full force of the utterly unfair American legal system if this is what you mean, but if he steps into my bar again I might finish what I started.”  
“Fair enough,” they sat a while in, surprisingly, comfortable silence.

“It would have been a shit/fan situation in no time if you hadn’t stopped him,” he offered. She scoffed.

“One time when Josie still was alive and Anna wasn’t born, obviously, we walked to our apartment from a movie. We went through an ally and suddenly there was this guy pointing a gun at us,” Emma stared at him.  
“Are you telling me your origin story?”

“Shut up. He was high as balls, and I knew, I simply knew that this would go wrong. He would freak, one of us would get hurt or worse, get killed. So I reacted and disarmed him. And I mean I was pissed, I really was. He was threatening my wife’s life. I sort of lost it. Yelled at him. I nearly dislocated his arm. The police had to pull me away from him,” she took a sip from Ash’s beer simply because it was there. It was stale but swallowing was a better option than spitting it across the room.

“And Josie stared at me with those big eyes and was scared of me. I freaked and she was scared of me,” he drifted off for a second, his eyes went sadly for a moment. Then he sighed. “Dean didn’t look at you scared tonight, neither did Ash or Madison. I hope you know that you didn’t scare anybody,” she met his eyes for a while, pupils huge in the damp light of the Roadhouse.

“Besides Thomas Mason, John Parker and Brendon Jones, they were scared plenty,” she had to chuckle on that.

“I actually can’t imagine you losing it, tiger mommy.”

“Yeah great, that’s what you heard. You do know that there was a lesson in my story?”

“Yeah, alright, I know. This is just me trying to joke it away. Thanks.”

“Your welcome,” he knocked on the counter twice and stood up. “I gotta go. Maybe you should put your shotgun under the counter after all. It’s a classic and this is Kansas. This won’t be the last brawl in your respected establishment and you with a gun probably could stop the mother of bar fights with as much as wiggling it around a bit while smiling friendly.”

“You are an asshole Chief Novak,” she said with a small smile.

“And you are insulting an official again,” he leaned in for a tender and chaste kiss and smiled at her warmly. “Get some sleep, good night.” She heard the rumble of his Mustang getting quieter until there was only the buzzing of the lamps and the faint interstate.

 

~

  
The next morning Emma was feeding the cat that she refused to call hers when a cab pulled over and Cain got out. He eyed the Impala for a moment then he walked towards her with long determined strides and pulled her into a tight hug. He never hugged her before and he sure as hell never placed a kiss on her hairline before mutterings thank yous. He let her go, smiled at her warmly and (seriously?) lovingly. He got in the Impala leaving a starstruck Emma behind.


	14. May 31st

Emma was in a weird mood. Cas had decided that they should become official which meant he kept going with her on very public dates in very public places like the Spring Fair, Drive-In movies (you just don’t go there with a platonic friend), town meetings (most boring date ever), or right now Anna’s Little League game. She doubted that was even a date because Cas left ten minutes after they arrived when something came up. She actually started to hate hearing him say: “I gotta go”. Now she sat under an umbrella on a camping chair like the soccer mom she obviously was today and dreaded that neither Lisa, nor Cas, nor Dean were here. She had little idea about soccer, she always had been more a Lacrosse and football kind of girl. She eyed Anna stumbling over the field, every running step not much more than a controlled fall. When she tried to kick the ball she lost the control. This was not much of a match, just a couple of yay-highs crisscrossing the field, nobody counted the goals nobody measured the time. This was obviously supposed to be fun. Emma never was a lets-play-for-fun person, but at least she didn’t have to deal with helicopter parents wildly gesturing because the referee didn’t call the foul. Now and then Anna would stop in front of her asking if she had seen a particularly impressive kick or pass and Emma would smile and say something like “Of course, sweetie” or “That was amazing munchkin”. Anna would sip on her soda and went off beaming like a lunatic. Anna was overly excited to have a female around, a mother figure. And Emma, on the other hand, felt oddly comfortable becoming a part of Anna’s life as much as Cas’, she actually felt committed. She was well aware that she was falling for the little family, and hard as it is. Cas’ chair was empty and now someone let himself fall into it.

“So, which one of the li’l ones is yours, chére?” the heavy Louisiana leaden baritone made its way through her ear into her brain and somehow short-circuited it. She turned her face and eyes the bear of a man next to her owlishly. He looked exactly like he looked seven months ago, short brown hair, greying beard, bulky muscles, light blue eyes with a smirk in them.

“Uhm, no, I’m… none… there is no…mine? What…oh…,” she rubbed her neck and finally found her focus. “The little redhead with the number 11, she’s … um …,” Emma was struggling if she should throw herself into the man’s arms or start an interrogation what he was doing here.

“She can’t be your brother’s, she’s a li’l big for that,” he said.

“Yes, no, I mean…goddammit,” she sighed. Interrogation it was: “Benny, as much as I am happy to see you, what the hell are you doing here?” He let out a soft chuckle. Man, she had missed that chuckle.

“Was at ya rest’rant. Nice place ya have there. Li’l brunette with puppy eyes said you’re here. I need to talk to ya. This isn’t a social call, Sergeant,” Emma frowned, especially when he called her by her rank.

“So, do ya need to stick around the gal or can we go somewhere more private. I’m not eager to have that conversation while everybody stares at us,” he said with a stern expression. He eyed her warily. Something was off when her best friend was cold and absent. Emma felt a nervous prickle. A quick look around confirmed what Benny just said. A lot of the parents sitting at the edge of the field stared at her and the strange big man hanging around casually in Cas’ seat like he owned the place. Emma sighed again.

“No, I need to stay. I’m kind of babysitting here. Don’t know when her father will be back. Look, you wanna talk then come to the Roadhouse at 7-ish. When I’m not in the front tell the guy on the bar to send you to my office, okay?”

“Alright,” he just said and got out of the chair in a fluent motion you wouldn’t expect from such a large man. He shot her a smile and turned around only to nearly run into Cas standing there with a puzzled expression. Emma rubbed her neck, they had an audience and now there would be a show. Just awesome.

“Hello,” Cas said in that gravel voice of his, ogling Benny with piercing blue eyes. “Is everything alright? Emma?” Benny just shrugged. He gave Emma one long pointed look over his shoulder and straightened himself. He was just a little bit bigger than Cas but now he managed to actually tower above him.

“Good afternoon, Chief,” he quickly checked Cas name tag above his badge. “Novak. Staff Sergeant Benjamin Lafitte, U.S. Army Rangers. I was just one my way,” he tapped on that little ridiculous fishing hat he was sporting every time he wasn’t in uniform. The gesture looked like a mock salute. “Sergeant,” he said as his goodbye to Emma. “You always had a thing for uniforms, haven’t you?” he grinned. The first time she could see the man she loved like a brother, she smiled foolishly. When he strode away with something Emma could have sworn to be swagger he slightly brushed Cas shoulders. Emma rolled her eyes. Military machismo. Cas kept looking at him until he got in a Jeep parked outside the stadium and drove away like he wanted to make sure the man was actually leaving. He still frowned when he sat down. There was a heavy silence between them.

“Who was that?” he finally asked after some moments that were so pregnant with tension there was a chance their water would have broken.

“Benny,” she mumbled pretending to be overly interested in an insect running along one of the legs of her chair.

“Oh,” Cas said eloquently. “What did he want?” Emma turned her face very slowly towards Cas.

“I don’t know, he didn’t say.”

“So he just shows up here to say hello?” Cas asked a little sharper than he intended. Fair enough, he usually was a bit on the jealous side in a relationship, but that was not the reason for his unease. He was no idiot, Emma was an asset, and when someone from her past showed up calling her Sergeant something was up.

“He didn’t say, okay?” Emma snapped. “He wants to talk. We thought this isn’t the right place and time. He will come to the Roadhouse. You wanna come? Hold my hand?” they glared at each other with tight lips. Anna decided that this was a perfect moment to show up. Cas flipped a switch. His expression softened immediately and he smiled at his daughter fondly. Emma was still more on the moping-pouting side.

“Anna, I’m not feeling well. I better go home. I’m sorry, okay?” she said to the girl. Cas frowned at her, but Anna just shrugged, hugged her briefly and ran away. Emma took her bag and played with her car keys for a while.

“Emma,” Cas began, but one look of her shut him up.

“I call you,” she stood up.

“Em.”

“I will call you, okay? God,” she groaned. Cas watched her walk away and sighed. He felt like he had somehow fucked up, but he was also pissed of Emma.

~

Cas was pacing in Dean’s office for the better part of an hour. Dean let him pace. It was Cas way to cope with things. Pacing and rambling. He did that a lot since Emma was back. But enough was enough.

“Cas, would you sit, please? You ruin the carpet. I’m sure it’s gonna be fine,” Cas just glared at him and kept pacing.

“Do you know him?” he nearly barked at Dean. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Whom? That Lafitte guy? Yeah, I met him once, when she was in the hospital. He is a character.”

“That’s a word for it. What does he want?”

“The hell would I know, catch up maybe? They were together in service like forever. Sit, Cas, would you? I can get you something, coffee, tea, a fifth of whiskey,” Cas groaned theatrically and let himself drop in one of Deans guest chairs.

“What is your problem, Cas? Talk to me,” he gave him the Dean-patented fatherly look.

“I don’t know. She was strange after he left. She said he didn’t tell her what he wanted, but I don’t know. I don’t believe her.”

“Okay, you two had a fight or what?”

“No, yes…I guess somehow it qualifies. After he left she left. I’m not even sure if I screwed up or she screwed up or nobody screwed up.”

“You did your “Who was that?” “What did he want” thing in your Cop Voice?” Cas mumbled something under his breath. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. That might turn her on in bed, but bossing her around in public is never a good idea,” he smirked. Cas gave him one of his bitch faces.

“He provoked me.”

“Come on Cas, don’t be a pouter. He posed a little, you guys bumped shoulders. That’s a military thing. You should have seen him and Dad in that hospital in D.C.”

“I was military once, I don’t do that,” Dean scoffed.

“Sure you do, all the time. That personal space thing we talked about?”

“Should I call her? She said she would call. Should I call?”

“I liked you better when you were single,” Dean mumbled. Another bitch face from Cas. “Don’t pressure her, she said she would call, she’ll call. Look, I don’t know what that Benny wants. But she seems to be uneasy about it, too. She’ll come around eventually after she figured out what’s going on. And if my sister says he didn’t tell her yet, she isn’t lying. I should rough you up for just assuming. She might is good in lying through omission, but she never actually lies you in the face. One of her better qualities. You’re not jealous or something, are you?” Dean frowned at Cas.

“No,” he stared out of the window. It was getting dark already and it had started to rain. The weather playing along with Cas mood. He didn’t realize that he sat blankly staring for nearly 10 minutes until Dean harrumphed loud enough to reach him. Cas looked at Dean thoughtfully.

“Do you know what a stop-loss is?”

~

Emma was pacing, too. Benny sat on her brown couch, elbows on his knees and hands fidgeting. Emma made aggressive little steps in front of her desk, considering that there was not much space in her tiny office. She held the letter Benny gave her in her hands and gestured angrily while talking. The letterhead looked highly official and truly patriotic.

“This is bullshit, Benny and they know it,” Benny just shrugged. There was not much to say. He basically agreed with her, but there was nothing he could do.

“I’m just the bearer of bad news, Sergeant.”

“Stop calling me that. They can’t do it, that’s not right. I should get a lawyer or something.”

“Emma,” he tried. She suddenly snapped to him.

“They doing the same with you, aren’t they?” he made a little gesture of defeat. “Benny you’re 44, you cannot actually consider recalling to another 6 years of active duty. What’s with Andrea, what’s with Elisabeth?” he sighed.

“Figure I’m too ol’ for the field real soon. Will end up drillin’ or in the war room,” Emma scoffed.

“Unbelievable, you actually okay with that, are you?”

“No, I’m not. I’m pissed. I hava 4 months infant at home. I put my life on hold for so many years an’ was ready to start over an’ now they tricked us back an’ we can do nothin’ about it. People tried to take legal steps against somethin’ like that before an’ they were never successful. We can either suck it up an’ go or wait ‘til the MPs show up an’ drag us back. Ya want them to rip off some of your stripes as well?” she gave him an apologetic look and sighed while she let herself drop heavily on the couch. “Ya can ask that police officer of yours to knock ya up, would give ya a year or two reprieves,” he added tonelessly. Emma laughed humorlessly.

“Too early to make jokes, Lafitte. I need a drink, or five. Wanna get drunk in my living room and rant about the 4 stars in their fancy uniforms making all the decisions for us?”  
“I thought you never ask.”

~

“Cas, I will be honest with you. I really love your company but your voice is annoying as fuck. Get out,” she mumbled in her pillow. Her hangover had decided to go on a bender and was now nursing its own hangover. She was utterly undecided if she should somehow crawl into the bathroom to enjoy the fun of dry heaving or just simply die on the spot. Out of the corner of her half-opened eye, she could see Cas glare at her. Officer friendly is in a shitty mood, makes two of us. She sighed and rolled with lots of groans and moans on her back and heaved herself up on her elbows.

“You wanted to call me,” he said flatly. His lips were pressed tight together. “But instead you having a booze-up with your war buddy,” she frowned.

“A booze-up with my war buddy, who talks like that? This isn’t 1921. Show him some respect, though, you are in the IRR and he is higher ranking. My head feels like the outer parts of my head want to crawl to the inner parts of my head and the other way around so I will ignore the fact that you waltz in here like you own the place and make a scene. You have no idea how much this wasn’t a booze-up,” she pushed herself up on unsteady feet and padded into the kitchen. Benny was still out on the couch. Emma needed coffee.

“What’s he even still doing here,” he asked under his breath. Emma first shot Cas and then Benny a very pointed look over her shoulder.

“My war buddy was too boozed-up to go anywhere. It’s called crashing on somebodies couch. People did that in the 90’s and early 2000’s,” Cas expression got even more pissed at her sassy remark, she proceeded to make coffee. “Tough crowd.” The first sip of hot, dark, and strong coffee was heaven. She ignored Cas hovering while she enjoyed the first cup of the strong brew. She even had the impression her head was getting a bit clearer.

“We didn’t go on a drinking spree for shits and giggles Cas. That was purposeful and methodical drinking ourselves into oblivion,” his face went from pissed to puzzled with a little concerned at the side.

“Why?” he simply asked, always the cop, straight to the point. She poured her second cup and turned to Cas, casually leaning on the counter.

“Hm, why? That is an excellent question. Do you know what I and Mr. Lafitte over there became when we were soi disant dead? Non-persons. And so the government had to make us persons again, shiny and new, social security number, dental health plan and all. And now comes the fun part. We also renewed our enlistment contracts, or so we thought. Because obviously, we didn’t renew shit, they simply draw up completely new contracts for completely new persons. So, new enlistment, eight years active duty, and now guess what? We only got over two. Can’t wait to get over with the other six, I haven’t shot anybody in months. In retrospective, I am amazed they didn’t strip us of all our ranks as well, but that would probably be bad PR, because of the whole being war heroes thing,” she finished her sarcastic monolog with putting her cup so hard on the counter that it chipped a little. Cas face went blank. She entertained herself with pulling a second mug out of the cupboard and pouring another coffee. She kicked Benny hard in the calf of the leg hanging from the couch: “Stand to attention, soldier!” Benny startled up, groaned and fell back. He palmed his face.

“I’m never drinking Tequila again,” he complained.

“That’s a very specific restriction of your alcoholic beverage consumption, considering it was mostly bourbon we had last night, but I like your thinking. Here, coffee, some European roast you can also use to remove rust,” she handed him his drink. Cas still stood dumbfounded around.

“I will never say again that you are a shitty XO,” he mumbled.

“Oh you did that, didn’t you, you silly scallywag you,” she responded in her best Balthasar impression. At least she could hang out with this guy in the future. Silver linings, Winchester. Benny was eying Cas.  
“Broke the news already? I should head out then,” he emptied his cup in a long gulp, grabbed his hat and his jacket and left her alone with Cas mumbling something about needing a hose down. Emma sat down on the couch, feet on the coffee table and began to wait for Cas to do something. She knew Benny was right. She saw it before. Try to sue the U.S. Army and it won’t work out really well. Delays, papers, more delays, hearings, delays, lost papers, subpoenas, delays and more delays. Best case, she would win after 5 to 7 years of that shit, worst case she would lose after 5 to 7 years of that shit. Both scenarios were, well, shit and would change nothing on here current situation. So better just “suck it up an’ go” then. She eyed Cas. Her mother would die, at least emotionally, so would Dean. Emmi was young, she would get over it, probably would forget who she was after two weeks already. Cain would probably never forgive her when Dean fell apart and the same went for Dad and maybe for Bobby. Maybe not, these two were the only ones with military experience, and Vietnam nonetheless. They knew about the humongous, slow, unfair, bureaucratic machinery that was called the U.S. Armed Forces, and how the actual human sometimes got lost in it, being reduced to numbers and ranks. The Roadhouse, well, could remain hers on paper. Eli could manage it, no doubt. Bobby might become a co-owner for the same symbolic dollar she bought it from him and he had experience in running a business like that. Sam could handle the legalities, and he would, she knew him that much. And there are Cas and Anna. Fuck my life. Cas sat next to her. Still somehow catatonic.

“Six years?” he hissed. Finally

“-“

“YEARS?” Cas actually asked in capital letter. “And here I am, thinking they might just call you in for a stop loss,” he just mumbled. Emma huffed.

“Don’t say that out loud, would end in 6 and a half year.”

“I… I literally don’t know what to say.”

“Me neither,” they sat in silence. Usually, their silence was amicable. This time it felt awkward. Emma's headache was having a tantrum to get her full attention back.

“Your mother will be devastated,” he said flatly. Meaning he would. “And Dean,” meaning he would, and after a long pause in a hoarse voice: “And Anna will be,” he suddenly got up, rubbing his face. She really hated to hear him say “I gotta go”.


	15. June 3rd

Maybe Emma had hidden in her attic apartment. Maybe she had pretended for one more precious day that nothing of that had happened. Until her family invaded her. Cas had a gossiping mouth, so had Dean. Fair enough, Cas was maybe just pacing and rambling, as usual. Dean was gossiping. Emma wasn’t sure if she could handle her family ganging up on her, because basically, that’s what they did. Emma was sitting on her couch, hands in her lap. Not moving. A picture child of modest surrender. Her mother, Dean, and Bobby were ranting, her father just stood there, staring. So was Cain. She heard it all. The how dare you’s. The why’s. The what’s. She just kept glaring at a point behind her father’s shoulder. Cas wasn’t even here. She didn’t want to go; she had to, it wasn’t her fault. Something hot boiled inside her stomach. Why would you even come back? You know this would happen? How could that happen? Why didn’t you tell us? How long did you know? The rants turned from angry to sad to disappointed. They made it all about them. Emma snapped. She never snapped in front of her family, hell, she barely snapped at all. Emma was kind of intimidating when she was yelling. This wasn’t so much not about them. It didn’t even cross her families mind that she was so not okay with it. She might have used a couple of insults too many, but by the end, all eyes stared at her wide and glossy. Emma would so not cry in front of them (at this point not much of a bunch of assholes for her). She ran. Perks of living in a Roadhouse? It was very near roads. Emma just walked. She didn’t even know how long or how far, but when she gained some sort of awareness of her surrounding she found herself on a rural road in the middle of a wheat field. Shrugging she kept walking. Somewhere around noon, the soldier mode kicked in. Her breath was even, her steps were steady and controlled, every fiber of her body adjusted to marching with a minimum of energy. While her body made the work in stand-by her mind was racing. She repeated what she had sad and felt a bit of remorse which got extinguished again when all what Mom, Dean, and hell Bobby, said to her came back. Another wave of anger flushed her body. She kept walking. She kept walking for hours. By the time the sun nibbled on the horizon, she came to a sudden stop. She wasn’t scared. She might have eaten just an apple this morning and she had no water with her, and she was a bit lightly dressed for a chilly Kansas June night, but she’s been there, done that, more than once, more often she could remember actually. She sighed. She knew she had to go back at some point, this time was as good as any. It was already pitch black outside when her father found her. She just stood sheepishly in the headlight of her own truck, looking a bit messy from hours of marching in her pajama pants, and a bit cold for the same reason. Her father cut the engine and got out of the car. He didn’t say anything just put his jacket around her shoulder and gently pushed her to sit on the passenger seat. He handed her a bottle of water and a granola bar. The soft ding-ding-ding of the car reminding them that the lights were still on stopped when her father pulled his door shut.

“You nearly walked 25 miles. You will probably feel that tomorrow,” her father said with his dark voice. Emma thought he had a nice voice, velvety. She pressed her lips together.

“Do it already,” she mumbled. Her father looked at her puzzled.

“Do what?”

“Give me shit, is what everybody does. Always does,” she hated how broken her voice sounded. John sighed.

“Emma I’m sorry,” he just said. She stared at her hands.

“Sorry for what,” she finally asked eying her father carefully.

“For everything I guess. I know this is not your fault. I know you have responsibilities, no, obligations you have to fulfill. I know that there would be legal consequences for you if you disobey and I know that you want nothing of this. I know how hard this is for you and I can see how heartbroken you are, and I am sorry for that. You just came back, found your place in this family again, found friends, love even, and now they take it from you after all your sacrifices, personal and for this country, with the help of some bullshit juristically loophole. And I am sorry, Emma, so so sorry,” Emma stared at him with watery eyes.

“I don’t wanna go,” and this was it, the dam broke. She cried like she hadn’t in years. She didn’t care that John took her in his arms, gently rocking her and telling her that he knows. She didn’t care that he nearly carried her to her bed after they made their way back on the bumpy road. She didn’t care that he tucked her in. She cared when he kissed her softly on the forehead.

~

Emma left two weeks later. She didn’t say goodbye to Cas or Anna. She wrote them a letter. It was a shitty move. She said as much in said letter. Six years were too long and she wasn’t like other soldiers. She wouldn’t be able to get in touch for months at a time. Cas and Anna deserved better. Emma felt like shit.


	16. December 11th

“A birdie told me that the big man has just arrived ten minutes ago in a shiny, new and utmost lovely Bell 206L LongRanger,” Balthazar leaned on the door frame of the little gym, arms crossed. The tall, blond man looked in his Army Combat Uniform a little out of place among the other blue overall-clad seamen of the USS America. They all did. They had been ordered to report on the assault ships three days ago. Emma hated ships. If she loved them she would have joined the Navy or became a fucking pirate. She would have made an awesome pirate. But an assault ship? The air was stale and the water tasted of gasoline, or at least it did for Emma.

“Uh-hu,” was all Emma managed to say. She was panting pretty heavily and tried to catch her breath. She just ran 10 miles and in a record time. She did a lot of sports lately. It distracted her from heading straight into depression and it was less self-destructive then running reckless and guns blazing into operations.

“T’is birdie tell ya what he wants, brotha?” Benny drawled in his Louisiana accent. They stayed put since three days, condemned to do nothing. They were bored but they had orders: to wait for General Campbell. Balth just shrugged.

“Maybe he wants to hook up our Sergeant First Class here with one of his sons again,” Emma scoffed on that. This had been one uncomfortable party if there ever was one. “All I could tell you my love is that you two should clean yourselves up a little. The General might get the wrong impression of what you do with all that amazing spare time reporting to him looking like you either gone 12 rounds or dragged each other through the sheets,” he grinned. Emma punched him in the arm when she passed him. “You never made it that far at both options.”

She managed to look representable, tan beret and all, the moment a polite little Petty Officer said the General would see her now. The occasional seaman she met in the aisles stepped back respectfully when she passed. Rangers lead the way!

Benny already loitered in front of the little conference room they were supposed to meet the boss and straighten himself into a halfhearted attention when he saw his superior in company with a Petty Officer.  
Sometimes you just have to keep up appearances. The woman who looked suspiciously young (Wow, I’m really getting old when I think people twenty-something look like they belonged in high school) excused herself with a sharp salute. Emma stared absently after her, her hand hovering over the door, ready to knock. Her eyes fell on Benny.

“What?” she asked.

“There’s a suit with him, kinda scrawny, cheap haircut, cheap garment,” Benny said. Emma scoffed.

“Wow, what’ya think? White House official? Maybe finally the Aliens landed and we can go full Pacific Rim on them,” Benny laughed a little.

“Possibly this … or boring budget yadda yadda,” Emma frowned considering this option. She knocked.

“Come in!” a gruff voice ordered and Emma sort of barged in swiftly, Benny at her heals, and stopped two steps in front of the familiar man. Both stood to attention and gave salutes that looked so sharp even he looked impressed. Emma fixed her gaze at some point on General Campbell's forehead.

She removed her beret, so did Benny.

“Sir, Sergeant First Class Emma Winchester and Staff Sergeant Benjamin Lafitte at your service!” she said loud and clear. Every move, word, and gesture delivered with practiced ease. Benny would only speak when addressed to.

“At ease”, the General commanded which only meant that Benny and Emma let their shoulders drop a little and crossed their hand respectfully behind their backs. He mustered them a while. Then he harrumphed.

“Sergeant Winchester, this is Charles Shurley from the DCMA. Mr. Shurley Sergeant First Class Emma Winchester and Staff Sergeant Benjamin Lafitte, two of my best,” he said with a pointed look at them, yeah, scrawny man. He looked like an aging hipster and Benny was right, his haircut was cheap, so was his suit. And his beard needed trimming. Benny and Emma kept their composure, jaws clenched, steel hard faces, 1000 yard stares, because sometimes you just had to. The man was nervous. That every other person, including the only woman, was at least 4 inches taller than him probably wasn’t helping. He stepped forward, awkwardly ducking and held his hand towards their general direction, not knowing the protocol.

“Hi, hello. I am Chuck…Charles Shurley, hi. How are you?” He didn’t know the protocol at all. Emma acknowledged him with a tight nod and a court “Sir”. He stepped back, nervously nodding and did the next best thing. He started rambling.

“Wow, I have to say I have never been on a flattop carrier and you,” he gestured in their direction. “You sure look impressive and I have to admit a little bit intimidating. Also, I always thought, you know, that the military has regulations, considering you know,” he was pointing at Benny who was still not even flinching and he was also finally realizing that he was babbling and his voice became sort of meek. “Beards?” Heavy pause. Benny gave him a short glare (Benny's beard had been the reason for a couple of discussions), Emma bit the inside of her cheek not to laugh, and the General rolled his eyes. Emma decided to help poor, little Chuck.

“Sir, is there anything, in particular, you want to talk about?” Chuck snapped into accountant mode.

“Yes, well first we would like to apologize,” he was fumbling his way through a bunch of documents while he talked. “As I understand there were some misunderstandings considering your unjustified dismissal late last year? Well, I looked into it again. There was nothing we could do, sorry,” he paused and looked at them waiting for some reaction. It took Emma everything not to scoff and say something like “No shit, Sherlock”. “Well, but I am sure this doesn’t matter anymore, right?” well now Emma moved. She shifted her weight a little and shot Benny a very quick, very unnerving Can’t-you-believe-it? look. “I mean it’s not an everyday situation that two exceptional soldiers got prematurely dismissed by the President himself, right?” there was no reaction, absolutely none. “Right?” Chuck’s eyes darted from Emma to Benny back to Emma. “I mean that is still what you want, isn’t it?” Chuck seemed helpless. “Honorable of course. Did I say something wrong?” Emma’s eyes snapped to the small man.

“Sir, with all respect,” it was clear that Emma was talking to General Campbell. “But is this a joke?” there was just a hint of a question mark at the end. It was a dangerous tone. The kind of tone that implied “Screw with me and I fuck you over in ways you wouldn’t even think about if you were in a wacky psycho-killer brainstorming camp”. Chuck seemed lost.

“No? I have the signed certificates here. You’re officially dismissed. You didn’t receive the letter, yet?” Emma could have sworn the General smirked. Emma broke the protocol and stared at Benny. He looked about as stunned as she felt. She only had one question.

“Why?”

~

~

  
“Uncle Dean?”

“Yes, munchkin?”

“Can the President tell everybody what to do?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, can he tell you what to do and you have to do it?”

“Uh, no munchkin, he can’t.”

“But he is like the boss of everything, right?”

“No munchkin, he has to answer to a lot of people, he cannot just decide things and everybody has to do what he says.”

“But he is the boss of the military?”

“Oh, Anna. Is this about Emma?”

“He is, right?”

“Yes, I suppose he is.”

“So he can tell anybody in the army what to do, and then they have to do it. Like an order.”

“Anna this is not how this works, okay?”

“But if he wanted to, he could.”

“Probably, maybe. I don’t know, but Anna…”

“Okay!”

~

“What you moping about, little devil? Why don’t you play with Alfie?”

“I want to write a letter.”

“And?”

“I am 5. I don’t know how to write, Aunt Meg. Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not laughing. Why don’t you ask your father to help you, if you really want to write this letter?”

“He isn’t supposed to know about it, it’s a secret letter.”

“Oh really? To whom you want to write this top secret letter?”

“The President.”

 

~

 

“You keep helping the girl writing a letter every week to the White House and Homeland Security will stand in front of our door in no time.”

“It’s important to her, although I assure her that it’s probably a lost cause. She won’t stop anyway. So shut up Al and cut the onions. And no word to Cas.”

 

~

 

“You good?”

“Yes Dean, to answer your question the millionth time: I am fine. I understand, okay? It hurts and I miss her, but I understand.”

“Alright, and Anna? She asked me weird stuff about the President the other day.”

“Like what?”

“If he could tell everybody in the Army what to do.”

“Oh, well. They had it in school a while ago. She maybe was just curious. She never mentioned it to me. She is fine though, but I think she didn’t really comprehend that Emma wouldn’t come back anytime soon.”

 

~

 

“You heard from Emma recently?”

“No, we haven’t heard from her in a while now, why?”

“I had a missed call the other night with a weird number. Looked foreign.”

“Maybe she drunk dialed you.”

“Funny, Dean.”

 

~

 

“What are you doing here in the middle of the night, Cas?”

“It’s not even 9 Cain. Can I come in?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“I got a letter, no, Anna got a letter. From the White House. The President wrote my daughter a letter.”

“Come again?”


	17. December 25th

Emma pulled the sheets from her couch and her armchair that covered the furniture to protect them from the dust. She already had taken a long hot shower and had swapped her uncomfortable uniform against some sweat pants and Sam’s old KU sweater. She really liked this sweater. She hadn’t told anybody that she was back, and this time definitely for good. Order of the President. Everything went so fast. From one day to another she was in a chartered military plane from some Red Sea Army Base to Fort Benning and then she sat in office after office and signed papers after papers. There was a little farewell ceremony and suddenly Benny and she were civilians. She really had wanted to go back to Kansas, but she somehow panicked and so Benny put her in his truck and took her with him to Louisiana for a week. She had met Andrea and little Lizzy while collecting the courage to face her family. Now she was here and she was procrastinating. She even took a fucking Grey Hound Bus to delay her arrival. She wasn’t sure what kind of mood prevailed between her and her family. She had left them being pissed about them being pissed about her earlier and they seemed to be full of remorse and regret. In the past 5 months, she called exactly twice, very short calls that went like: how are you? Good? I’m fine, too. Bye. And then there was this tiny tidbit of Cas and Anna and her wondering if she could conduct some sort of damage control and fix what she probably had broken beyond repair. The Roadhouse was closed for the season, nobody was there and it was awfully quiet until she heard the arrival of a certain black, 67’ muscle car. Emma frowned. Maybe Dean was just checking out if everything was alright? It was part of the family business after all. She took a deep breath and went downstairs. Meeting Dean first wasn’t the worst start of this. It wasn’t Dean.

“Uhm, hi,” Cas looked good, really good, in his black Jeans and the grey plaid button-down with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “You are really here, Jody said she thought she saw you get out of a bus,” he said weekly. He had his cell phone in his hands. It was ringing but he absently turned the call down.

“Yeah,” there was a long pause, each of them staring at the other. “Where is the Mustang?” she had no idea what to say.

“Oh, in the garage, Dean wanted to change something into something else, I don’t know, I wasn’t listening.”

“And he gave you the Impala instead?” Cas phone went on again. He stared at it, then back to Emma.

“I might have borrowed it without asking, wait for a second,” Cas picked up the phone and hissed something like “You will get your stupid car back Dean, fucking relax, okay? Geez!”

“Sorry,” another pause. Then he said, “So, did you know that Anna wrote a letter to the President?” Emma smiled a little.

“19 letters, to be exact. I saw them, they were…colorful. Good to know that you only have to use crayons and Princess Elsa letter paper to peek the Presidents interest.”

“I’m sure that’s how President Bush wrote his entire correspondence, but he might have used stationery from Cars. So,” Cas let his finger go through his hair. “My 5-year-old daughter, who can't actually write made the President dismiss you?”

“Crazy, right?”

“I think that kind of explains why my daughter was oddly unimpressed by your abrupt leave.”

“Maybe, only kids can hope like this.”

“And this is terminal?”

“Well, I’m not dying, but I basically got fired by the President, so this is it, no loopholes. I think they will make a lifetime movie out of this.”

“Move in with me.”

“What?”

“Move in with me.”

“I… are you serious?”

“Dead.”

“What about my apartment”

“Give it to Eli, he lives in a shithole above a rancid laundromat. You can cut his salary.”

“I think I know the place.”

“Move in with me.”

“Even after…”

“I don’t care. I spend the last 5 months pining for you. I know you didn’t want to leave. I wasn’t happy with you just writing me a letter, but I understood. I missed you so much. And now you are back and I won’t let you go again if you will have me. Move in with me. Marry me and have beautiful, tall, dark-haired, green or blue-eyed children with me. I love you, Emma. Anna loves you, so…”

“Okay,” Emma deadpanned.

"Okay?" Cas beamed at her

“Yeah, let’s do this,” Cas closed the distance between them quickly and pulled her close. They kissed like it was their first and their last time until Emma’s head spun and Cas’ cheek burnt like he had a fever. They pulled away after what felt too long and not long enough. Cas put his forehead against hers.

“Benny and his wife might visit us soon to give Anna some kind of thank you present. Something small, a castle on the country or a pony I think.”

“Okay. If you ever break up with me again with a letter I will kill you.”

“Fair enough. I love you.”

“I love you, too”

 

 

THE END


End file.
